Life Is Beautiful
by Mistress Scribbles
Summary: Alternative version of Beauty & The Bogbeast. Eric returned to the Realm, but the others just weren't fast enough, and Earth claimed them again. A completed oneshot about loneliness, love, frogs and princes.
1. Chapter 1

Hello again! I thought it was high time I posted this story here. It was originally inspired by Sealgirl's idea to write Alternative Episodes to D&DC for The Virtual Realm. I started to run the concept of what could have happened had the others not followed Eric back to the Realm at the end of Beauty & The Bogbeast through in my mind - here's the result, spilling over, as it does, into an Alternative version of a completely different episode by the end!

Thanks, as ever, to Sealgirl.

-x-

LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL

One

He knew the moment he surfaced that it was all wrong. The familiar sounds of the funfair sounded strange to his new ears, and the smell of hotdogs and candyfloss, once so tempting, were now sickening to his non human nose. But what was most telling was the fact that he had managed to reach the surface of the lake at all, and was now treading water competently. Without webbed hands and feet, the armour would have caused him to sink like a stone.

The others were all caught up in their own jubilation, delighted to have finally got home. Nobody had said anything about him yet. Maybe... maybe he _had_ changed.

He glanced down at himself. The same detested reflection that had met his gaze miserably all day still stared up at him from the shifting water. He was still a monster.

'Eric...'

He turned slightly in the water to face Sheila. The others had noticed him too, and they were staring at him, their eyes full of wonder and pity. He supposed he was going to have to get used to that, if he was going to have to spend the rest of his life as a freak.

'It didn't work,' he croaked, unhappily. He touched the now distinctly unmagical amulet. 'I can't go through life looking like this.'

He really couldn't. The day he'd just spent as a mutant amphibian had been bad enough - but at least it had only been five people who had stared at him incredulously and made teasing comments about his appearance, five people who knew how far they could push him, five people who he didn't mind trading insults from time to time... five people who, when it came down to it, had seen much, much worse than him in that world, where bizarreness was the norm.

His brain struggled to remember the conventions of Earth. He wouldn't just be an other ugly creature here. He would be a circus freakshow... _Is it a toad? Is it a man? Find out after this commercial break..._ What would they think at school? He could kiss goodbye to ever getting a girlfriend... _Oh God! Julie Klien will see me like this!_ And then there was... _Oh God! Dad!__Dad'll have me locked in the attic before any of his contacts sees me... Oh God, I'm gonna be the crazy mutant attic boy that kids tell ghost stories about... I don't wanna be Attic Boy!_

He couldn't. Just couldn't. Maybe if he just went back real quick, he could change back and still get back in the river before it stopped running upside down.

He gave the others a fleeting glance, held his breath and swam back down.

'Woah!' Bobby swam to the spot that Eric had just vacated, but his sister held him back from ducking down after him. 'What's he doing?'

'I guess Eric needs to be Eric more than he needs to go home,' piped Diana.

'Give him a break...' interrupted Presto, quietly. He darted an apologetic glance at Diana as she blinked at him. 'I mean... I mean...'

'I think what Presto's trying to say is, Eric's hardly had the best day of his life today,' interjected Hank, 'and I'm sure that us teasing him didn't help.'

Presto sighed, gratefully. 'Yes.' He rode the pause, and then, because nobody else had said it yet, added 'we'd better go back for him before it's too late.'

He looked at Hank, who frowned to himself and nodded, thoughtfully.

'Right...'

Sheila let out an audible sigh, watching the revellers on the shore hungrily. 'Sure. We can't just leave him...'

'Except...' muttered Hank, still scowling at the water, 'except... I think that anybody who wants to stay here should take the opportunity. While they've got one, that is.' He looked up, deliberately, at Sheila and Presto.

'Hey,' grinned Presto, 'I'm the one who brought that idiot here in the first place. I think I owe it to him to make sure he gets back in one piece.'

'And I'm not leaving you guys,' added Sheila.

'Me neither,' asserted Diana, before looking at Bobby. 'Bobby, you're the littlest, maybe you should...'

'Mmmnyeh...'

'I'm _not_ the littlest!' exclaimed Bobby, supporting the head of the baby unicorn that had been hitherto treading water quietly.

Hank blinked. Uni. Now there was a problem he hadn't thought of before.

'Uh... Bobby, you know that Uni can't stay here.'

Bobby looked up at Hank with the eyes of a boy that had just been told the kindest thing would be to take Old Yeller out into the yard and shoot him.

'I mean...' started Hank, finding himself beginning to flounder under the child's hurt gaze, 'she doesn't belong in this world. She'd be as lost here as we were back there.'

Bobby sighed. 'Guess so.' He ruffled his fingers through the unicorn's wet mane. 'But I'm taking her back.'

'Then we're agreed,' concluded Hank, 'we all go back.'

'Yep.'

'Myeah.'

'Fine.' Hank back pedalled a little, searching the dark water beneath him for some kind of portal. 'We'd better hurry up.'

He was about to duck down under the water when Diana caught his arm, suddenly.

'What about you, Hank? Don't you want to stay?'

Hank allowed his eyes to wander, ever so briefly, across the happy, normal people at the funfair, laughing, kissing, eating, without a care in the world. 'Of course I do,' he sighed, and then dived beneath the water.

He knew that the others were with him the first time he dived, straining to keep his eyes open against the stinging water, searching for a doorway back into the Realm, amazed that Eric seemed to have found it straight away, even though Eric _was_ an amphibian at the time. He made sure they had all surfaced to catch their breaths before he ducked down a second, then a third, then a fourth time. As he surfaced again, full of panic that he was sure he had now searched the entirety of the lake beneath them, and yet still not found any portal, it struck him that something else was very wrong. The others had gone, and in its place was a small rowing boat. And it was just at that moment, when he was attempting to make sense of all the strange occurrences that were addling his mind one by one, that a pair of large hands reached down from the boat and hauled him up by his armpits. In the rush of movement he could make out the others' despondent faces staring at him from inside the dinghy.

'What the Hell are you kids doing in the damn lake?'

-x-

Still waist deep in water, Eric watched the upside-down waterfall dry up as suddenly as it had begun flowing skyward. He'd left it too late. There was no way back. He began to climb the riverbank.

'Wow. I wonder what it will be like... alone...'

Eric trailed off, surprised that that had been his first concern. Surely the worst thing about the whole sorry situation was that he'd found the way home, then had to return to this stupid back-to-front world. And furthermore, he was _still _ a hideous creature. The fact that The Brady Bunch weren't tagging along anymore was surely small fry in comparison...

'You not alone...' croaked the friendly voice behind him.

Eric rolled his eyes upwards. _Ah, yes. The Family._

'You have us now,' added the Bogbeast, 'Brother...'

'No...'

Eric winced against the slimy hug, fond and genuine though it was. Long as it had been since anyone had hugged him with any real affection... _These guys _are_ my family now, I guess... and it looks like everybody else has given up on me... maybe I could stay just a little... No. No. You're not one of them._

'Get off.' He pushed the Bogbeast away from him, but deliberately didn't look into the creature's distressed eyes. 'Uh... I mean, I'm... it's just...'

Something small, scarlet and distant caught his eye as he flailed for words.

_DM._

He was just sitting there, on a rock next to a cliff, the other side of the valley, watching him quietly.

_That's not like the little twerp..._

He finally found the courage to meet the Bogbeast's gaze. 'It's just that I, uh, I guess I have a job to do here.'

'Then stay here,' smiled the Bogbeast, optimistically.

'No,' sighed Eric. He wondered whether any Bogbeast had ever been so much as above ground. 'I meant here in the Realm.' He looked at down at his shield. All it did was remind him of the fights he had been in. And of Venger. 'And there are.. people... after me. Bad people.'

The Bogbeasts all seemed to gasp in horror as one, then pulled themselves up bravely.

'We protect you!'

Eric smiled sadly. It wouldn't be long before Hell's Transvestite found out he was the only one of Dungeon Master's 'pupils' left and come after him. And if the Bogbeasts tried to help him... Chargrilled Frogs Legs sprang instantly to mind.

'No. I never cared for Cajun food.'

The lead Bogbeast furrowed his slimy brow in confusion. 'Huh?'

'Goodbye.' Eric turned to go, then glanced over his shoulder as an afterthought. 'Thanks for the offer, though.'

He waded along the river until he came to the rock on which the Dungeon Master was perched, waiting patiently. As Eric began to drag himself up to the midget's level, he noticed that his limbs had become slimmer and warmer. He sat silently on the rock, rubbing his newly human face joylessly, and slightly surprised that he wasn't even a little bit glad to have finally changed back to his old self. Still the Dungeon Master waited for him to have the first word.

'I get it now,' said Eric, finally. 'I had to face what I hated most to change back. I had to come back here to Cloud Cuckoo Land, and look at your ugly mug again.' He removed the amulet, and halfheartedly threw it into the river, where it sank with a dull Plop.

The Dungeon Master clasped his hands sombrely, looking out at the underground swamp.

'Not so, Cavalier.'

'What, you think I don't hate this place, or you?' interjected Eric, sullenly. 'That I don't despise you and your stupid disappearing act and your riddles and little half-melted-snowman face? Because right now I'm fighting back the urge to...' he trailed off, clawing strangling fingers towards the little Dungeon Master's throat.

The Dungeon Master didn't react.

'The thing that you hate the most is neither me nor the Realm,' he replied, calmly, 'but loneliness. You returned here without your friends, and then you chose to continue with your quest than stay with those who would call you Brother. It is that which has returned you to your usual form.'

Eric stared at the Dungeon Master, his mouth agape. The tiny mystic finally met his gaze, seriously. They looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then Eric burst into peals of grim laughter.

'Loneliness? You think I can't stand being alone? You really don't know me very well, do you?'

The Dungeon Master just blinked.

'It was your idea to bring us here six-by-six, DM, not mine,' continued Eric. 'It just so happens that under normal circumstances I thrive on my own. You have no idea how much I've been craving a bit of peace and quiet, free from whiny little cry babies and dumb cheerleaders and God's Golden Haired Gift to Everybody, I'll tell ya...'

Eric stood up, suddenly enraged.

'You're gonna say something mushy now, aren'tcha? You're gonna say how I need them more than I'd like to say, or somethin'...'

Still the Dungeon Master didn't react.

'Well, I don't need anyone. I'll show you. Eric relies on Eric. And Eric enjoys the company of Eric. And nobody else. Understand?'

Eric looked up at the climb up to the top of the fissure. It looked tricky, but not impossible. And there was sunshine crowning the top of it. Now _there_ was an incentive. Without another look back to the Dungeon Master, or to the distant Bogbeast village, he slung his shield over his shoulder and wordlessly began to climb.

The Dungeon Master didn't watch his Cavalier as he started to slowly clamber up the fissure. He was watching the surface of the river. He watched, and watched, until the clattering and grunting of the youth had faded out of earshot. Eventually, the old man sighed.

'You've missed it, haven't you?' A silent river was all that answered him.

'Oh dear. This is not how I intended it to happen.' The Dungeon Master looked up at the teenaged boy above him, grappling with a particularly difficult section of the cliff. 'Not how I intended it at all!'

A cheery thought hit him, and for a moment he joined the scowling youth, now several meters up the cliff face.

Eric jumped a little when he found that the jutting rock he was groping for suddenly now had a Dungeon Master on it, but managed to regain his composure quickly and continued to climb, blanking the midget.

'Remember, Cavalier,' advised the Dungeon Master, 'the moment that things are at their worst is the moment when they must start getting better.'

Eric advised the Dungeon Master to do something to himself that the old man didn't particularly understand, and resumed his climb.

The Dungeon Master just sighed. 'Was he _ever_ going to listen to me?'

-x-

Bobby did his best to hide Uni behind his legs as they all stood, sodden and sheepish in the Security Guard's office. The little unicorn was being uncharacteristically well behaved. She remained silent, cowering behind the kids, trembling slightly in cold and fear at her bizarre new surroundings. Bobby nudged the foal gently with his heel, trying to soothe her as much as possible without attracting unwelcome attention to her. The Security Guard was not looking down at their legs, thankfully. He was addressing a soaking and highly confused Hank with all the tact and consideration of a Gestapo Officer.

'I mean, what were you thinking? What was it, some sort of fancy dress swimathon? Didn't you read the signs? You kids are gonna catch your deaths...'

Hank frowned, his attempts to interject cut off at every breath. This was something he had become unused to - being talked down to, like a dumb kid. He glanced across at Diana, who was growing increasingly irate at being ignored. He had also forgotten how seldom Diana was able to catch peoples' eye outside of the Realm, let alone get anyone to listen to what she had to say. White people, anyway...

The security guard was trying a new tactic. 'What's your parents' phone number? I'm calling them to pick you kids up right now. And you can consider yourselves banned.'

'What about Eric?' whispered Sheila, behind Hank.

Presto, scowling in a corner, removed his sopping wet hat. 'I'll see to this.'

'No, Presto...' warned Hank from the side of his mouth.

Presto simply glowered at the Security guard, his hand circling the opening of his dripping hat. 'Alakazoom and Alakazickle,' said he, with an ill conceived optimism, 'give us a spell to get us out of this pickle!'

Bobby closed his eyes in despair as absolutely nothing happened.

The Security Officer merely stared from the large, conical hat to the bespectacled, tension screwed face of the teenager holding it.

'What have you kids been taking?'

Presto shot Hank a desperate glance. 'It didn't work.'

Of course it didn't work. They were home. What use did they have for magical hats or bows here?

'No.'

'So whadda we do?'

Hank paused, licking his lips, suddenly aware that all eyes were on him. All but the Security Officer, who was flipping through his notepad with concern.

'You didn't drink the water, did you? Tell me you didn't drink the water!'

Hank thought. _What is our option if weapons are out?_

He darted a glance across them all. 'Run.'

And so they ran, and once out of the Security Office automatically scattered. Had the Security Guard decided to chase Bobby or Presto, he might have caught them, but he made the mistake of going after Diana.

Hank stopped behind a tree, watching the distance between the fat guard and the speedy Athlete swiftly grow.

_Stupid Redneck. That'll learn him._

He paused for a moment to get his breath back and make sure the coast was clear, and then jogged away. He knew where they would all end up. They had to get back to the ride.

By the time he got to the entrance of the Fairyland section of the theme park, Diana and Sheila were already waiting. Presto, Bobby and a still-spooked Uni were quick to join them. Presto looked up at the sign as they passed it.

'God,' he murmured, 'Eric didn't even want to come into this bit of the park in the first place.' His face broke into a grin. 'He objected to the "Fairy" part,' he explained.

'Why _did_ he come?' muttered Diana.

'Because I invited him,' sighed Presto, 'which I have already apologised for several times since...'

'No,' Diana interjected, 'I mean, he was always banging on about how much cooler he was than any of us. All he did at the park was complain about how lame it was. Why would he even want to hang out with a bunch of losers at a third rate funfair?'

Diana was suddenly aware that Presto was staring at her, sadly.

'What?'

Presto blinked at her, and sighed. 'Nothing... I don't know. Maybe he just liked us more than he let on.'

'Well, that wouldn't be too hard for him,' chimed Bobby from behind him.

Sheila turned around to her brother. 'Can we leave the Eric Bashing until we at least know he's safe, guys?'

Bobby frowned down at his feet. 'Sure.'

Hank turned the corner to the ride that he had spent months swearing he would never, ever return to, and stopped dead in his tracks.

'Um... where is it?'

Bobby peered around the older boy, his eyes widening at the grassy, unspoiled hill in front of them.

'Woah! Where'd the ride go?'

'No!' Presto broke into a sprint towards the hill. At the foot of it he came to a ragged stop, pushing his hands through his hair in futile desperation. 'Our clothes are here.'

'Huh?' Sheila jogged over to join Presto, closely followed by the others.

Presto stooped, picking up the dry sweater and jeans he had been wearing when he'd got on the ride.

'Our clothes,' repeated Presto. 'They're all here. All except Eric's.'

Sheila clutched her favourite pink Tshirt to herself, looking at the hill, sadly. 'D'you think the Realm wants to... keep him?'

Hank span around to them, his face set. 'Well it's not gonna. It might have got confused or something, because it took six and gave six back, but it's got it all wrong, and we can't stand for that. After all, Eric's not the only one of us who's lost.'

The others gazed at him, blankly. He pointed at the unicorn that was still trembling miserably behind Bobby's legs.

'I'm talking about Uni! The poor thing's terrified!'

Bobby sighed, and petted the unhappy creature's head gently.

'She doesn't belong here, and Eric doesn't belong back there,' concluded Hank, 'so let's just find another way back as quick as we can, OK?'

The others nodded, damply.

There was a pause, broken eventually by Bobby.

'Can we get changed, first?'

Hank looked down at his own drenched leggings. As fun as it would be for any of the guys from school to see him in tights...

'Sure.'

They wandered the park for the rest of the day, hiding occasionally from the Guard, but mainly searching for any sign of the ride, finding none. Seven o'clock came and went, and the other thrill seekers began to abandon the park. Bobby stopped first, slumping onto a nearby bench and lifting his petrified unicorn up into his arms.

'It's no good.'

The others turned to him, despondently. Deep down inside, they all knew the same thing. But they also knew that to say so was just another step towards abandoning Eric.

'Bobby...' warned the boy's sister.

'It just isn't here any more!' growled Bobby.

Hank sighed. If he said they should give it up, he knew that they would. And then what would happen... to Uni... to Eric...?

'Bobby's right.' Hank tried to ignore Presto's disappointed gaze. 'We're not doing Eric any favours looking in the wrong place for him.'

Presto looked up at the darkening sky. 'So what do we do?'

'I don't know.' Hank squeezed the bridge of his nose, screwing up his eyes and praying for a flash of inspiration that didn't come.

'...our parents must be worried about us...' murmured Diana. 'Maybe we should...'

'And what about Eric's parents?' snapped Presto.

Diana tugged at her hair in infuriation. 'My God, Presto, we're _all_ worried about him, OK?'

Presto opened his mouth to say something, but Diana cut him off.

'Why have you felt the need to snipe at _me_ about it ever since we got back? You act like it was my fault or something!'

Presto didn't even attempt to speak this time, but turned from her, scowling.

'Geez,' cried Diana, 'Talk about his spirit living on...'

Diana trailed off, biting her lip, as Presto turned, furiously to face her.

'He's not _dead_!' protested Sheila.

'Yeah,' Diana sighed, 'that was pretty tasteless of me. It's just that...'

'I know,' seethed Presto, 'it's just that we all want to go home. It's just that life would be a lot easier if we could just forget about him, right?'

'Presto...' attempted Diana.

'I mean, he always did OK on his own before the Realm, right? It's not as if he'll miss us, right? And it's not as if any of you guys'll miss him, either, huh?'

'Presto...' soothed Sheila.

Presto was starting to back away from them.

'I mean, it's not as if any of you actually liked him...'

'_I_ quite liked h...' managed Sheila before she was cut off again.

'I saw the looks on your faces when he showed up at this park with me!' yelled Presto, still backing away, 'and you all still think life would be better without him deep down, don't you? That's why you're not trying! You're not really trying to find him!'

Hank took a step towards Presto. 'We're trying as hard as we can, Presto...'

'But you don't want to! You all just want to go home to your families and your beds and forget all about Eric. Go back to it just being the five of us again.'

Presto paused for breath, but nobody tried to interject this time.

'Well go on,' Presto continued, still stepping away from the rest of the group, 'go home. But if you're gonna forget about him, you can forget about me, too, OK?'

'Presto...' began the other four kids in unison.

But Presto turned on his heels and ran from them.

By the time they caught up with him he was already out of the park and rounding a corner towards town. Diana grabbed him arm, causing him to slow down.

'What's all this about, Presto?'

'I can't just abandon him. If I have to find him on my own, then that's what I'll do.' Presto tried to wrench his arm out of Diana's grip, but she caught it again and held him fast. 'It's my fault he came here in the first place...'

'He can make his own decisions, Presto.' Hank was glad to slow down as he caught up with the other two. 'God knows he was always stubborn enough when...'

Presto shook his head. 'I persuaded him to come out that day.'

'Why?' Sheila's question was free of any cruel overtones.

Presto stared at them all, sadly. 'Because he's a sad and lonely guy. I thought, y'know... you guys are all really nice. I thought he could do with some decent friends.' He looked at his feet. 'It certainly boosted _my_ confidence, being friends with all of you. I thought it might do him a lot of good, too.'

A stunned, sad silence fell, broken eventually by Hank patting Presto's back.

'We won't give up, Presto. And we won't let this divide us, OK?'

Presto sighed again, putting his hands into his pockets. 'OK.'

The sky was almost completely black, but a street light fizzed into life, bathing them in its strange orange glow. Hank was amazed at how much he'd missed even simple things like the gaudiness of electric light in the night time. Uni had begun to whimper. Nothing made any sense to her any more. Everything was too bright and loud and fast moving.

'So what do we do?' asked Presto eventually.

'It's getting late,' added Sheila.

Hank nodded. 'And Diana was right about our parents, you know. They'll be worried sick. We should let them know we're OK.'

'I thought we weren't gonna give up...' muttered Presto.

'We won't,' replied Hank, 'but it's night now. Eric's probably asleep, safe in the Bogbeast village. We're all tired. We'll look again tomorrow, after we've rested.'

On the other side of the street, a car screeched to a halt, and a woman began to cry out.

'Can't we look again?' asked Presto, 'just for another hour or so...?'

'Arthur?' called the woman on the other side of the road, 'Arthur!'

'Presto, it's dark,' sighed Diana, 'it's hard to see, and dangerous, besides.'

'Compared to Venger?' Presto spat, 'hardly!'

'Presto, you're doing it again!'

'Arthur!' The woman was starting to run across the street, stopping traffic as she did. 'Arthur!'

Arthur Greene, having not been referred to as Arthur Greene for several months, didn't realise it was his attention that the middle aged woman was trying to attract until she hurled herself at him, wrapping her arms around him so desperately that she lifted him clear off the ground.

'Where have you _been_, Arthur?'

The magician usually known as Presto, but always called Arthur by his parents, turned in the familiar, plump arms to face the woman that had grabbed him.

'M... Mom...?'

'We've been worried sick!'

'I'm sorry...' Presto was struggling to hold back the tears. There had been so many times since he'd ended up in that stupid Realm, so many times that he'd wanted his Momma to hug him tightly and protectively like she was doing now. 'I'm sorry, Mom.'

Hank instinctively took Sheila's hand. He knew she'd be in tears by now, too.

'We... we got lost...' he stuttered apologetically to Mrs Greene, in the attempt to explain the long absence of the woman's only child.

Presto's mother looked up at Hank without releasing her son from her arms.

'You've been lost? All this time?'

'...yes...' replied Hank in a small voice. It wasn't _entirely_ a lie, after all...

'But it's gone half eight!' cried Mrs Greene, turning to back to her boy, 'you said you'd be home by five!'

Hank blinked.

_Wait a minute..._

'You kids must've been walking the streets like urchins for hours!' Mrs Greene clutched Presto tightly to herself again. 'You poor things! You must all be exhausted, not to mention half starved!'

'Well, now that you mention it...' muttered Bobby.

Mrs Greene stood suddenly, still without loosening her grip on Presto.

'Get in the car, all of you.'

'Mom, don't fuss...' sighed Presto.

'I mean it, kids,' snapped Mrs Greene over her son. 'You're coming back with me, you're going to get some hot food inside you and you're going to wait for your parents in the warm. Understood?'

Her eyes passed over all of the kids sternly as she spoke, resting finally on Hank. He winced a little at the diminutive, plump woman. He had forgotten how formidable Mrs Greene in full Mother Hen mode could be.

'Yes Ma'am.'


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Eric was getting close to the top of the chasm.

This was a good thing.

He knew this because, for the past twenty minutes, the sunlight had found the top of his head and began to beat down upon it, mercilessly.

This was a bad thing.

He was just reaching up into the sunshine when he felt the rock beneath his feet begin to soften and give way. He began to scrabble, but the cliff's edge had little substance to it. He made the mistake of looking down at his feet and the drop beyond. He was trying to climb sand. The top few feet of the cliff was nothing but densely packed sand. He made one last effort and grabbed the final ledge, hauling himself onto the surface just as a large chunk of the cliff beneath him break away and fall to the distant bottom. He collapsed on the surface, panting and exhausted.

'S'OK,' he told himself through his straining breaths, 'S'OK. You made it. Rest. Rest.'

He paused for a while.

'The others would never let you rest,' he added, smugly. 'If they were still here, they'd be all "oh, lets go help these guys, lets go save these gnomes so that they can reward us with Big Fat Nothing". But you don't have to do that crap any more.'

He paused some more, smacking his dry lips.

'Maybe one of them would have thought to bring water, though,' he told himself.

He forced himself to sit up and look around himself. He was still facing the chasm, and could see a great Savannah on the other side of it. Trees and bushes grew, sparsely at first, but the further from the ravine they were, the denser and lusher they became. There was a small mountain in the distance, with the unmistakable twinkle of a fresh stream curling down from it. This was all, however, on the wrong side of a chasm a good ten feet wide. With Hank and his bow, or Diana and her staff, there might have been a way across. But on his own, there was absolutely no chance. He turned to survey the landscape that he had ended up on. There was sand. And absolutely nothing else. Just a vast expanse of sun baked desert. There wasn't even a horizon. The sand merely melted hazily into the sky.

'Oh, great.'

He stood up, squinting off into the distance.

'There'll be something,' he told himself, confidently. 'There'll be a town, or an oasis, or something. There always is.'

With that, he nodded to himself, and began to walk into the desert, still running his dry tongue over the roof of his mouth.

'Maybe this'll be the bit where things start getting better,' he added, 'cause I really can't see how this could get any worse...'

He bit his lip to stop himself saying any more.

_Don't say that! Never say that! That's just tempting fa..._

The shadow fell over the back of his head.

For the briefest moment, his expression turned to one of intense irritation before it darkened to a grim, if fearful, resolve.

_I knew it!_

He turned slowly, deliberately, sliding his shield down his arm from its resting place on his shoulder to his hand, holding it up so that it covered as much of his torso as possible, and could be brought up quickly to protect his face.

He watched Venger bring his great black mount down to land on the desert floor with confident ease. Venger never once took his eyes from the youth. Wordlessly, Eric cocked his head back, feigning contempt and defiance, doing his best to look down his nose at his opponent - not an easy task when Venger stood several feet taller than him.

_I must look ridiculous_.

As though hearing his thoughts, Venger let out a small, mocking laugh.

'So it's true,' grinned Venger, 'the little Cavalier is the only one left.'

Eric scowled, taking a hesitant step backwards. It wasn't as if he could run. It wasn't as if there was anywhere to hide. But it wasn't as if he could fight Venger alone, either. And Venger knew it too. That's why he was toying with him.

'The others went back to their accursed world, I take it,' Venger continued, 'and saw fit to leave you here. All alone.'

Eric did his best not to change his expression. He stood in his spot, tensed against whatever the One-Horned demon was about to throw at him.

But he didn't. Venger watched him for a moment, then dismounted quietly and took a step towards him.

Eric took another step back. 'Stay away from me.'

Venger cocked an eyebrow in amusement. 'Or what?'

'Just...' Eric's voice was barely a hiss. he hoped that it would sound angry, rather than terrified as it sounded to him. 'Just stay away.'

Venger smiled again. 'Eric...'

Eric choked a little.

'That _is_ your name, isn't it?'

Eric just nodded, wide-eyed.

Venger took another step towards him. 'You're a sensible boy, Eric. Do not think that I haven't noticed. You wouldn't just throw your life away.'

_Oh my God. He's talking like a teacher..._

Venger held out his hand.'I think you know better than to not give me that weapon now. Because you can either hand it over in a civilised fashion, or you can cause me to take it from you by force. And I think you know that would not end well for you.'

_It's worse. He's talking like Dad._

Eric took another step back.

'No. It's mine.'

'You would seriously protect that trinket of Dungeon Master's with your life? After he brought you here and left you alone? What allegiance do you owe him?'

'I don't.' Eric frowned, searching for the reason why he was being so stupidly stubborn. 'But it's _mine_.'

Venger snarled, hurling a small burst of magical energy at him, which Eric blocked automatically. Two more bursts of energy pushed Eric back a little way, but his shield took most of the strain, and he was able to stay on his feet.

'Stop doing that!'

'Stop blocking me! You're only making it worse for yourself...'

'Oh shut up.'

Venger furiously lashed out a hand to grab the shield. Eric winced, clutching the shield to himself tightly.

_Here we go. Here comes the pain..._

A thin film of electricity jumped over the shield the moment Venger touched it, causing him to jerk his hand away. Eric looked up, over his shield as Venger clenched his fist in pain and rising anger.

'How dare you.'

'I...' gasped Eric, 'I didn't do anything...'

'How _dare_ you!' Venger lashed out again with a clawed hand, at Eric's face this time.

Eric didn't have time to shield himself. He didn't need to. The film of protective energy rose up over him from the shield just in time to catch Venger's hand once more.

Venger actually cried out slightly this time, cradling his hand. There was smoke rising from it.

'It seems that you have chosen to do things the hard way,' Venger growled. He took a step towards his mount, then stopped, and turned back to the cowering boy.

'It makes no difference to me, of course,' he continued with a calmness returning to his voice. 'This desert would take weeks to cross on foot, although nobody has ever managed to do so and live. You are just one little boy, with no food and no water. I can't imagine you'd last long.'

Venger leaned in to Eric slightly. The shield hummed again, warily.

'I shall return, in a day or two.' He ran a brief, predatory glance over the lad, his primary coloured armour shining brightly under the relentless suns. 'You will be easy to find, and by then will be in no position to defy me.' Venger paused for a moment, and thought. 'I should like to return to you before you die. Although I shall be able to pluck your weapon from your slack, helpless hands either way, I should prefer you to watch me do so.'

He turned away from Eric again, and began to mount the black stallion that waited for him.

'I might even bring you back, too,' he added with a small smile, 'I'm sure you have some wonderful tales to tell of your adventures, and of those who have helped you to defy me. They say that you are the one who talks too much. I should like to see how just how much, under persuasion, you would be willing to say.'

With which he tugged at the creature's mane, drawing it around, and, unfolding his huge black wings, took off and galloped away.

Eric watched him leave from safely behind his shield until he was a distant speck of black on the sky. Then, and only then, he flipped him off.

He watched the speck disappear.

He kicked at the sand, angrily.

He stopped, coughing as the disrupted sand flew into his face.

He paused, watching the vast expanse of nothing, his chest heaving as his despair grew to intolerable levels.

He swore.

He swore again, louder.

He screamed, his arms flung out wide to the nothingness.

He paused again, listening to his scream die away.

He threw himself into a sudden, violent rage, the first he had done in a long time, hurling his shield to the ground and falling to his knees along with it, pounding and clawing at the sand with his fists, cursing the world, cursing everybody he knew, cursing, particularly, himself.

'It' not fair! It's not fair!' He curled forward, hugging the back his head, forming a tight, foetal ball. 'I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die alone, in this Hellhole. Alone and unloved and oh God I'm gonna die...'

He sat up sharply, his face and voice suddenly being masked with an insincere calmness.

'No you're not,' the calm voice told the panicking one. 'No you're not. You're gonna walk.' He got to his feet, shakily, picking up his shield and dusting it off. 'You're gonna walk. You're gonna prove that dress wearin' Son of a Bitch wrong, if it's the last thing you do. It _will_ be the last thing I do...'

He bit his lip, driving the panicked voice into silence. He faltered for a moment, watching the endless desert with trepidation.

'You're gonna walk.'

He began to walk out into the vast, flat desolation.

'You're gonna walk.'

-x-

Much as Presto had feared, his mother didn't even start phoning around the other kids' parents until there was a hot pizza and large bowls of coleslaw and green salad on the table. She ushered the barely protesting kids into the large kitchen.

'Eat. Eat, for God's sake,' she clucked.

'Uh... thanks.' Bobby was the first to take a large slice of pizza and start eating, quite forgetting to use a plate, not that Mrs Greene seemed to mind.

'You must be starving, poor little thing.'

'Mmmhh.' Bobby nodded, his mouth crammed full, as the others began to help themselves, remembering their table manners.

'D'you boys win those at the fair?'

'Hhmm?'

Mrs Greene nodded at the large club and bow still being clutched absent mindedly by the two blond boys.

'Oh.' Hank swallowed hastily. 'Um, sure.'

Mrs Greene indicated to the cowering unicorn at Bobby's heels.

'Tell me you didn't win _that_ too.'

Bobby reached down to pet Uni instinctively.

'She's our pet,' replied Sheila.

Mrs Greene adjusted her glasses.

'What is it, a goat or something?'

'Somethin' like that,' muttered Presto, 'look, Mom...'

'Why is it wearing a hat?'

Uni backed away under a chair, miserably. The kids had used the sash from Sheila's Realm outfit to fashion a sort-of turban over her horn. It didn't make her particularly inconspicuous. In fact, it made her look completely ridiculous.

'She feels the cold,' answered Presto quickly. 'Listen, I'm sure these guys' parents will be worried about them.'

'Of course,' smiled Mrs Greene, finally taking the hint. 'I'll ring around.'

'Sorry', sighed Presto when his mother had finally left the room and begun talking on the phone.

'Don't be,' smiled Sheila, tucking into a second helping, 'your Mom's the best!'

'Did anybody else notice,' piped Diana, 'she thinks we've only been gone a day.'

'Yeah,' Hank added. 'I guess we struck pretty lucky. I must admit I was starting to worry that there'd be a big Missing Persons search out for us by now...'

He fell silent as Mrs Greene breezed back into the room.

'They're all coming over now,' she told them cheerfully, 'except I'm afraid there was no answer at your house, Eri...' She blinked at them. 'Where's Eric?'

Presto paled, and the others looked at their feet. The questions were going to start. And their answers were going to sound terrible...

'Huh?' he asked, playing for thinking time.

'That new friend of yours, Eric. Didn't he go with you today? Where is he?'

'He... he, uh...'

'He left us this afternoon,' replied Hank, quietly, 'went off on his own.'

The others looked at one another, guiltily. Again, it wasn't _exactly_ a lie...

'Oh.' Mrs Greene seemed satisfied by that answer. She had obviously met Eric before. 'Well, I hope he's OK. It just went through to answerphone at his house.'

'He might still be out,' suggested Hank.

Mrs Greene frowned. 'But it's a school night.'

She was cut off by the doorbell. Diana's house was only around the corner, but still her father must have sped to get there so quickly. Mrs Greene went to answer it, still talking.

'Where are his parents, that's what I'd like to know...'

Presto leaned in to the others as his mother answered the door.

'He said his Dad was away on business until tomorrow night. His Mom lives in the UK, she never calls.'

Hank nodded. 'So we've still got a whole day to find him before he's missed.'

A silence fell as they contemplated this.

'That's really sad,' said Sheila.

Hank sat back in his chair, and frowned.

-x-

Hank sat on his bed. He was fed and washed and ready for bed like a good little boy. He was still frowning. There was something he was still missing. A big piece of the jigsaw didn't fit, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He lay down. he couldn't think straight. He was exhausted. Mr O'Brian had given him a lift, and he had spent most of the journey from Presto's house silently watching the world fly by the passenger seat's window, listening to Bobby and Sheila argue with their father about what they were to do with their mysterious new 'pet'. By the time he had got out and walked to his house over the road it had been decided that Uni could stay in the garage for the time being, but Mr O'Brian was still adamant that she was to be taken to an animal rescue centre by the end of the week.

He ached. The months of fighting for survival in the Realm were finally beginning to take its toll on his body.

_But we've only been gone a day! Less than that, most of today we spent trying to find a way back into the Realm..._

He tried to do the maths in his head. They had got on the ride just after an early lunch, and when they'd been in the Security Guard's office the clock had said ten to four. And that had to have been at least half an hour after they'd surfaced the first time.

_We can't have lost more than three hours..._

Sleep began to overtake him.

_Months and months in three little hours. Time must move much faster there than here..._

The answer was there, on the edge of his mind, waiting to be worked out, but he slipped out of consciousness before he had the chance to construct it. It invaded his dreams instead, the horrible reality hitting his sleeping thoughts like a sickening nightmare that he couldn't alter, couldn't wake from, couldn't help.

_We've been back on Earth for hours and hours. More pass as we sleep. And for every hour that we waste, he spends endless months alone out there. Months... years, perhaps._

And there was the other thought, the worse one, that danced around the top of his nightmare like a skittish spider.

_He could never survive that world for so long. Not alone. He's dead. He's already dead._

_-x- _

Eric sank to his knees in the sand. Once the suns had dimmed and disappeared, it had been all right. He had still been hungry, exhausted and desperately thirsty, but he had managed to walk steadily through the cold desert night. Day had returned all too soon, however, bringing with it the intolerable heat. It couldn't even be noon, and he could go no further. His mouth and throat were as dry as sand, but he was still losing buckets of precious fluid by sweating so profusely. He panted, his head bowed. The shining steel of his armour not only slowed him with its weight and made him glitteringly obvious Vengerbait, it also conducted and retained the suns' heat terribly. His breastplate and boots were so hot that they were starting to sting his skin, and inside the suit of chainmail, his torso was beginning to stew. He glowered down at his body. There was nothing for it. If he was going to keep moving, heck, if he was going to survive the next few hours, the clothes were going to have to go. Cursing quietly, he removed all his metal trappings bar his shield, stripping to his underwear. He picked up his cape and refastened it over his head like a large shawl, hoping to keep his shoulders and arms from burning while protecting himself as much as possible from the oncoming sunstroke that was already causing him dizziness. He spent a moment staring at the armour that he had worn with considerable pride for the last few months, despite its heavy and uncomfortable nature as it lay, abandoned, in the sand.

_Here lies the shell of Eric the Cavalier. It'll probably be here long after I'm gone. Maybe one day somebody'll find it, and wonder who left it, and why._

With difficulty, he dragged himself to his feet, slinging his shield over his shoulder. He looked down at himself again. He was reminded of a cartoon turtle that had jumped out of its shell.

_Maybe it's a good thing there's nobody to see me after all..._

He set his face, and continued the long, painful trek across the scorching sand.

Several hours passed, and the suns rose overhead to begin their tormentingly slow fall back to the horizon. In the middle of the desert, a skinny, half naked, crimson shawled figure dropped the golden shield that he had been dragging and collapsed entirely.

Another hour or so passed. Eric drifted in an out of consciousness. He could no longer swallow, and the sandy dryness seemed to have overtaken the whole of his insides. He could feel the back of his legs burning, but he barely cared any more. He closed his eyes, face down beneath his cape, and prayed for death to come before Venger did.

He became aware of footfalls in the sand, and a large shadow falling over his prone body.

_Oh no. Too late... too late for a quiet death now..._

'What's this?'

The voice, while confident and deep, wasn't Venger's. Still, Eric didn't dare hope that it wasn't somebody who wished him harm. A large, warm hand grabbed his unprotesting wrist and felt for a pulse.

'A desert waif, eh?' continued the gently mocking voice, 'lazing around in the sand. We can't have that now, can we?'

The figure picked Eric up easily, slinging him over its shoulder like a fireman rescuing a frail child. Eric couldn't fight. He was barely aware of what was going on as he was flung over something large, softly feathered and alive. He felt the figure climb into a saddle behind his limp torso and pick up a set of reigns that ran over the top of him.

'I am just going to have to take you home with me.'

The figure fastened the young man's shield behind his own back and kicked his mount gently. The burdened beast sped away through the desert, away from the distant chasm, and away from the empty suit of armour.

The armour was returned to later that day by another tall, dark figure which kicked at it, cursing loudly, then left again, for good. Gradually the sands of the desert blew over the shining metal, consuming it, covering the hollow, fallen memorial for Eric the Cavalier with a fat blanket of nothingness.

-x-

'I'm sorry!'

Hank blinked, making sense of his surroundings. He was sitting up in his bed (_his_ bed... _his_ room...). There was sunlight visible through the curtains. His alarm clock was ringing. The apology had flown from his lips as he'd woken. He was home. And, provided his memory served him correctly, Eric still wasn't. He slapped the alarm clock, silencing it. It was a Monday. He supposed he'd better make as if he was going to go to school.

He showered and dressed faster than usual, and, since he had no appetite, skipped breakfast. He managed to stuff his bow into his biggest gym bag and was just leaving, a good half hour ahead of schedule, when his mother stopped him.

'Hank?'

Hank avoided his mother's gaze. He didn't want to start getting used to his parents being around again. Not if he was going to have to go back to that place without them.

'Mom...'

'About yesterday.'

Hank made no reply.

'You know the house rules about timekeeping, Hank.' Her voice wasn't angry, but gently scolding, as if she was talking to a much younger boy. 'You didn't so much as call to let us know you'd be late...'

'...I couldn't...'

'No excuses, young man.' His mother crossed her arms. 'Needless to say, you're grounded tonight. We'll expect you to come straight home from school this afternoon. Understood?'

Hank continued to look at the floor.

_If they think last night was bad, wait 'til they find out I bunked off school today... that is, if I ever come back this time..._

'Sure, Mom.'

He turned to go.

'Honey?'

He turned back to her. She caught his cheek, tenderly.

'Love you, Kiddo.'

He took her hand in his.

'Love you too, Mom.'

He didn't look back, but jogged across the road to the O'Brian house, listening to his mother shut the door behind him.

He didn't have to ring the doorbell - Sheila opened it for her brother and his unicorn just as he got to their front step, making them all jump.

'You're early!' exclaimed Sheila.

'So are you,' Hank replied.

Sheila shrugged. 'None of us slept very well...'

'...I was worried about Uni,' interrupted Bobby, 'she's off her food...'

'And I had weird dreams all night,' Sheila continued. 'I'll feel better once we've sorted all of this out.'

She slung a large backpack over her shoulders. Bobby's club was slightly too big for it, and poked out through the top, along with the edge of her scrunched - up cloak. Hank stood aside to let her lock the door behind her, then followed them onto the street, smiling faintly at the miserable unicorn at their heels. She had been disguised again.

'A party hat?'

Sheila flashed him a quick grin. 'Apparently the turban made her look too silly.'

Bobby looked back at them over his shoulder as he walked. 'You makin' fun?'

'No,' chorused the older pair.

Without breathing a word to each other, they began making their way towards the school. Presto and Diana usually met up with them around halfway there, and from their meeting point, they'd be able to decide what they were going to do.

Hank walked in step with Sheila as Bobby walked ahead of them. Just like they had done every school day before the Realm. Everything was becoming so routine, so normal again.

'So what were your dreams about?' he asked Sheila.

'The Realm,' she answered, 'lots and lots of dreams about the Realm. All these adventures we never had.'

'Such as?'

'Oh... Presto fell in love with this prisoner of Venger's, so did Diana...'

'With Presto's girlfriend?' grinned Hank.

'No!' Sheila laughed. 'With this Stargazer guy, but then he disappeared. And there was this creepy scarecrow called the Darkling, and a big scary whirlwind was Venger's boss, and Venger had a sister, who seemed nice, then turned evil, then turned nice again...'

'Did _you_ fall in love?'

Sheila shook her head, smiling at him. 'This king proposed to me, but I said "no".'

Hank linked arms with her. 'I'm glad.'

Sheila's face fell. 'Eric was there.'

Hank sighed.

'All the time,' she continued, 'in all those adventures we never had, he was still there. Causing trouble... annoying us... protecting us, making us laugh...' she smiled, strangely. 'I miss him, Hank. He's a sweet guy, deep down.'

They turned the corner where they usually met up with Presto and Diana, expecting to have to wait around for them. They found themselves speeding up, however, to rendezvous with the bespectacled boy and tall Black girl who were already waiting for them.

'You're early!' cried Sheila.

'We both slept badly,' replied Diana by way of explanation.

'More dreams?' asked Hank.

Presto shook his head. 'Worrying.'

'Thinking,' added Diana. 'Thinking that months in the Realm passed as a couple of hours on Earth, and so wondering how long he's on his own back there for every minute we waste.'

Hank watched the others' eyes widen in horror.

'I hadn't thought of that!' exclaimed Bobby.

Hank looked at his feet. 'I had.'

Presto set his face, folding his arms, yet another example of his sudden, uncharacteristic decisiveness - a certain... _Erickyness_... that he had been displaying since becoming parted from the Cavalier.

'Then there's no time to waste,' he demanded. 'We need to find a way back into that dumb world right now.'

Hank sighed. 'Presto... it might not be that easy. I mean, where do we even start looking?'

Presto looked up at him. God, he hated that look. That disappointment. He opened his mouth, and tried to say something a little more helpful, but was cut off by a voice both familiar and unexpected.

'Guys! Hey, guys, wait up!'

Hank frowned, and turned with the others to face the owner of the voice, jogging up the street after them.

'Jimmy?'

Presto groaned. That annoying little Whitticker kid, tagging along yet again. He had quite forgotten about the early morning ritual - he and Diana would meet up with Hank, Sheila and Bobby, they'd get about ten seconds of peace and then Jimmy would catch up with them and start pestering him. Not Bobby, not Sheila, but him. Every single goddamn day. Hank had tried to tell him that it was just because Jimmy liked him. Presto tended to agree with Eric, who had once had the misfortune of being stuck in detention with him for a week, that being intensely irritating was a sort-of sport to Jimmy, and that he probably had a pool going with his friends as to how long it would take Presto to snap.

'You're early,' Bobby told Jimmy as he met them.

'Had a weird night's sleep,' replied Jimmy.

Diana blinked. Jimmy might have always copied things they did, but how come _he_ hadn't slept? He hadn't been with them in the Realm... had he? She could tell from Hank's face that he was wondering the same thing.

'Weird how?' she asked.

'Had the craziest dream,' Jimmy answered, breathlessly, 'that this monster came and took me to a magical world, and that I was there for weeks and weeks.'

'Magical world... really...' Hank's voice was flat.

'And you know the nuttiest thing?' continued Jimmy, 'my Dad dreamt it too. And it was so real to him that he actually called the cops! Boy was I ever surprised to wake up in my bed surrounded by half the LAPD... not half as surprised as Dad was, though...'

'You woke up in your bed?' added Diana.

'Yeah,' grinned the boy, 'the monster got killed and all us kids that were, y'know, taken... we were all sent back to our bedrooms.' Jimmy barely paused as he briefly scanned the others' thoughtful expressions. 'Where's Eric?'

'Huh? Why?' Presto kicked himself instantly for sounding so suspicious, but Jimmy was so absorbed in his story that he didn't notice.

'I wanna tell him about my dream. He was in it! He'll flip!'

Again, Jimmy didn't notice the sudden wave of seriousness that fell over the others.

'Was he...' stuttered Sheila, '...was he OK? I mean... what was he doing?'

Jimmy's face split into a wide smile. 'He saved my ass! He was all heroic, like, he was dressed weird and he had this magical shield...'

Hank felt Sheila grab his hand and squeeze it tightly.

'Did he say anything?' he asked, hoarsely, although his voice was drowned out by the others' questions.

'Did he look happy?'

'Was he well?'

'Did he look like he was getting enough to eat?'

Jimmy shrugged, enjoying the attention. 'He was OK, kinda sad looking. When he saw me he was sad, anyway. He said he had a message for you guys.'

Sheila's hand crushed Hank's even tighter.

'Well,' she gasped, 'what was it?'

'I don't know. That's when I woke up.'

The group sighed in irritation as one.

'What?' smiled Jimmy. 'Hey, isn't Eric with you?'

'He never walked...' Diana corrected herself. '_Walks_ with us. You know that. He might be at school.'

'Oh.' Jimmy's face fell, a little disappointed, as he began to walk towards the school. 'OK. You guys coming then?'

The others remained in a stationary huddle.

'We'll see you there,' lied Presto. 'We've got some things we gotta do first.'

'You'll be late!' chimed Jimmy with an irritating cheerfulness.

He began to walk away from the group, then stopped, frowning. Something about those guys had been really weird. He turned to look back at them. It was still there.

'Hey,' he called to them, 'why do you have a tiny pony wearing a party hat?'

The group, tiny pony included, stared at him with identical deadpan expressions.

'It's her birthday,' answered Bobby, finally. 'Bye, Jimmy.'

Jimmy Whitticker turned from them and continued his walk to school alone, shaking his head.

'And I thought my dreams were strange...'

It was Diana who spoke first, as soon as Whitticker was out of earshot.

'OK, who else thinks Jimmy really went to the Realm?'

Everybody raised a hand.

'And he really saw Eric, too,' added Presto.

The others nodded in agreement.

'I just wish he'd been able to get that message to us,' sighed Sheila.

'Yeah,' added Bobby. 'Apart from knowing he was OK when Jimmy met him, we're right back where we started again.'

'Some good Whitticker ever was...' muttered Presto.

'Not necessarily, Presto.' Hank was standing stock still, mentally picking through everything Jimmy had just told them. There was something that he said that was very different to their experience of the Realm. He had entered it, and exited, a different way.

'Jimmy didn't use the ride.'

The others gazed at him. Diana began to smile warmly as the realisation hit her.

'That's right! He was taken from his bed, and he was sent back to his bed!'

'And he said that everybody was being sent back,' added Sheila with growing relief.

'What?' Bobby was still nonplussed. 'What does that mean for us?'

'It might have taken Eric back, too,' Sheila explained, 'he might be safely in bed already!'

'Might be,' added Presto, 'only _might_ be.'

Hank's heart was hammering with anxious hope. Presto was right, of course, they couldn't afford to be relieved yet. But at least it was a lead.

'There's only one way to find out for sure,' he told them.

Nobody said another word, but they turned as one and began the long sprint towards Eric's house.

-x-

His heart still pounding and his breath still struggling from the run and the anxiety, Hank rang the doorbell of the Gothic mansion for a sixth time. The others were impatiently shuffling from foot to foot on the long gravel drive, watching the dark, lifeless windows.

'Do you think he's asleep?'

'I don't know,' he replied.

'Do you think he's hurt?'

'I don't _know_.'

'If he's back but there's no portal, how does Uni get home?'

'I don't _KNOW_.'

'There's no answer. Do you think he's even in there?'

'...mmrrr...'

'I. Don't. KNOW!'

'...mmmMMMRRRUH!'

'Hank?'

Hank span around to face the others.

'Oh for the love of...'

'Hank?' repeated Bobby, watching the little unicorn with concern.

Uni had finally stopped cowering at Bobby's heels, and was slowly walking towards the left side of the house, seemingly transfixed and angered by one large window at the top left corner. She was tensed as she approached it, her ears flattened and her head lowered like an enraged cat. Most disconcerting, however, was the fact that she had begun to growl.

'What's she doing?' asked Hank.

Bobby started to follow her, at a safe distance. 'I don't know.'

'Maybe she senses something,' suggested Diana, joining Bobby as he trailed the unicorn.

'Eric!' Gasped Sheila, 'she senses Eric!'

'She's never growled at him like this before,' Presto muttered. He followed the unicorn's eyeline to the corner window, surrounded by a trellis of ivy. 'That is Eric's room, though,' he added, 'he told me he got that ivy planted so he'd have a way of sneaking out. Not to mention, back in again.'

Hank squinted at the dark window. He saw it too now - a hint of movement. '_Something's_ up there.'

'ERIC!' yelled Bobby, 'Eric, it's us!'

One of the window panes shifted open slightly, but no visible hand touched it, and no face looked down at them. Uni's growls grew wilder and angrier.

Diana leaned into Hank. 'I'm worried,' she whispered, 'this isn't right.'

Hank nodded, eyeing the ivy covered trellis up to the window. The Realm had already sent a mythical creature back to Earth in Eric's place once. There was no reason why the same mistake couldn't have happened a second time. And there was no reason why it would be something as benign as a baby unicorn this time.

'Agreed.' He turned to the others. 'I say we go and see exactly what we've got up there.'

The others nodded in agreement. Hank scooped the fretful unicorn up to place her gently in his gym bag along with his bow before slinging the bag over his shoulder and beginning the climb up to the ajar window.

Uni's growls melted into bleats of fear as she swung precariously in the bag on Hank's shoulder. Bobby, hot on Hank's trail along with the others, gave her a supportive smile.

'Don't worry, Uni. You're nearly there already.'

Indeed, at that very moment, Hank pushed the window completely open and pulled himself and the unicorn inside. Setting his bag on the floor, he got to his feet, slack jawed at the scene in front of him.

'Oh my God.'

Hank turned, still dumbfounded. It had been Sheila who had spoken, and was now climbing through the open window, followed by the others. Presto was the last into the room, and was so distressed by what he saw that he nearly let go of the windowsill, as Uni growled again, shrinking into the bag.

'Oh my God.'


	3. Chapter 3

Three

It was obviously Eric's room, although it appeared more like a small, well furnished apartment, with a sofa and a TV and... and a large oblong where a bed must have once been. But now there was Nothing. In fact, now there was an awful lot of Nothing. The void in his bed's place had grown tendrils which thrashed around the room desperately, like an injured octopus.

'It knows,' breathed Hank, 'it knows he's missing.'

'A portal.' Bobby lifted Uni up out of the bag, cradling her in his arms. 'Whaddya suppose it's trying to do?'

'Put the right people in the right places, I guess...' Diana trailed off, distracted by her own name on the page of an open book on the floor. She stooped to pick it up.

'But Eric's still not here,' added Presto, 'maybe he can't find it where he is.'

_Dead men aren't renowned for finding portals..._

Hank squeezed his eyes, forcing the thought from his mind.

'And I'm not just gonna hand Uni over to that thing,' Bobby stated, 'how do I know that she'll end up someplace safe?'

Diana snapped the small book shut and slipped it into her jeans pocket along with her shrunken staff.

'OK, so I guess we all go in after him, like we planned in the lake.' She stepped towards the flailing portal, wiping a small buildup of sweat from her forehead as she did.

Sheila caught her wrist.

'You OK, Diana? You look kinda flushed.'

'Um...' Diana stalled. She really didn't want to start broadcasting her discovery. Her many discoveries. She had only flicked through Eric's journal briefly and already she had learned much more than she was ever supposed to about her missing friend, about the way he felt about his parents and his friends and her friends, and her. She didn't want to say that the last thing she had looked at before the pages became blank had been an entry about why he was going to the funfair with the geeky amateur magician and his bunch of goody-two-shoes friends. She didn't want to tell the others that she now knew why Presto had been so ready to blame her for Eric's absence. She should have spotted it. It was so obvious. _And why did he pick that stupid flower in the first place? Who was he trying to impress?_ She couldn't help but agree that it _was_, kind of, her fault.

'Let's just get that dumb kid out of there while we can, huh?' she said eventually, with false cheer, 'who knows what trouble he's got himself into by now.'

They had no opportunity to venture any closer to the portal. At that moment, it found them. It wrapped its tendrils around them, first Uni, then the others, crackling with recognition as it touched their weapons.

Automatically, they screamed, but the thrashing portal was deaf to them and sucked them into its gaping mouth.

And they fell out of the other side, dressed in their Realm clothes as before, to tumble helplessly into the sands of a vast, empty desert.

-x-

'Eric?'

'Eric!'

'ERIC!'

Bobby slumped back into the sand, scratching at the leather straps covering his chest. 'I'm telling ya, he's not anywhere near here.'

Hank pulled at his own costume. He'd almost forgotten how hot and heavy his leather tunic could get.

'But it makes sense that he would be nearby. The portal was where his bed used to be. It had to be for him.'

'I think Bobby's right this time, Hank.' Sheila sat down next to her brother. 'There's nothing as far as the eye can see but sand.' She picked up a handful of sand to make the point, letting it slip through her fingers and blow away in the slight wind. 'See?'

The group fell silent. Sheila dug her fingers down into the sand again. But this time they struck something smooth and metal. Her eyes widened.

The other side of Bobby, Uni began to bleat, softly and mournfully.

Bobby patted his pet's mane. 'What's up, Uni?'

At the same time, Hank crouched down next to Sheila. 'What is it?'

He watched her eyes as she gazed at him, her mouth opening and closing silently as she slowly pulled the steel boot from the sand.

She didn't look at it at first, and the others didn't notice it straight away. For a moment, he was the only one staring at the empty, buried boot, hoping it wasn't Eric's, knowing that it was.

_I knew it! He didn't make it_.

Despair began to form a heavy, black ball in the pit of his stomach.

'No!' It was Presto who cried out, alerting the others. Suddenly they were all crowding around the retrieved boot.

'Sheila,' gasped Diana, 'where did you get that?'

Tears were beginning to well in Sheila's eyes. 'It was under the sand. Right here.'

Uni was nuzzling the patch of sand next to Sheila, bleating sadly. As she agitated the sand with her nose, more shining metal became visible.

'Oh no.' Presto pulled another boot from the sand, then golden gauntlets and finally, miserably, a golden breastplate.

'It's not necessarily his...' muttered Sheila, hopefully.

Diana dug a little deeper into the sand, then stopped. She pulled a shirt and leggings from the ditch, both bright blue chainmail. With bitter tears brightening her eyes, she threw the chainmail far from her with all her might. It landed noisily in the sand as she stifled a sob behind her hands.

Hank gazed at them all, then, scowling at the sand, took his turn to dig. If there was anything else to find under there, he would rather he find it than anybody else.

Bobby stood up, fearfully. 'What are you looking for, Hank?'

Hank didn't answer, but scrabbled furiously at the sand with his fingers.

'Hank? What's down there?'

Nothing. There was nothing else. He supposed he should have been relieved, but it only raised further questions.

'His shield's not there,' sighed Hank, 'neither's his cape.'

'But...' choked Diana, 'but is _he_...'

'No.' Hank cut Diana off before any of the others could take the time to consider what she had meant.

'I don't get it,' sighed Presto, still toying with one of the boots, 'what does all of this mean?'

'Well,' replied Hank, 'I guess it kinda explains why the portal can't find Eric. It looks like he left the lion's share of the Cavalier in the middle of this desert for some reason.' Hank paused. 'It also means that wherever he went from here, he wasn't wearing much. I can't pretend that fills me with confidence.'

'At least he still had his shield,' piped Sheila.

'Unless someone took it from him,' added Bobby.

'Oh.' The others contemplated this.

Hank sighed, the despair in his belly growing larger and thicker.

_He was a sitting duck, out here. Somebody took his shield, then stripped him, then.._.

He squeezed his eyes again, trying to block out the horrendous mental images that were flashing before them.

'So what do we do?' asked Sheila.

Opening his eyes, Hank became aware that the others were all looking at him. He cleared his throat, and tried to do the same to his mind.

'Well, we go out and find him.' (_Or what's left of him..._) 'We can't just stay in this desert forever, anyway.'

'So what?' Presto got to his feet, dropping the boot. 'Just walk?'

Hank shrugged as confidently as possible, scanning the horizon as he did. 'Sure. We're bound to find a town, or an oasis, or... something...'

So they walked. And they walked. And nothing came along. No town, no oasis. Nothing but more sand and the bright, hot suns. Their attempts to divine water with the bow were unsuccessful this time, and the more dehydrated and exhausted Presto got, the more useless the objects he pulled from his hat became. The suns set, and after a few sleepless hours huddling together against the freezing night, they decided to carry on walking anyway. By dawn, Uni could walk no more, and Hank began carrying her over his shoulder, ignoring Bobby's protestations that he wanted to carry her. The suns had been up for about three hours when Presto collapsed. Uni was passed to Diana and Hank took most of the young Magician's weight over his shoulder. It was about noon when Sheila went, and Diana helped carry the slim redhead, finally allowing Bobby to carry his pet as he'd wished. Five minutes later, however, he too sank to his knees. Hank turned around to the child just in time to see Diana faint under the burden of Sheila's weight.

_Well, you can't very well carry them all_.

His head felt light. He was suddenly aware that he had dropped Presto. The boy was curled up in the baking sand, moaning faintly.

No...

That wasn't Presto moaning.

That was him.

Hank's knees buckled. He was vaguely aware that he was falling, and all at once there was sand against his face. He couldn't cry. He didn't have the fluid to spare. Where was everyone? Where was Dungeon Master? Where was Eric? Dead, of course. Why had they gone back? Why had they let _him_ go back in the first place? And now they were going to die out here, oh God they were going to die...

A large shadow fell over him.

'What's this?'

Hank blinked, following the shadow. It ended in a pair or leather boots, which in turn ended in a pair of dark suede breeches. Above that, he could see no more.

A pair of hands grabbed Hank by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. His head reeled. He could see all of the man now, framed in the bright sunlight. The man's torso was covered with a purple linen shirt, and his head with a strange turban that also veiled most of his face. Dark, kohl-lined eyes smiled at him kindly from the small gap in the turban.

'Desert waifs, lazing around in the sand?' The man's voice was comforting. The accent was strange, partly that particular cross between American and English that Hank referred to as 'Realmic' and partly something close to Arabic. It was familiar to Hank, but he had no idea how.

'We can't have that now, can we?'

Hank, disorientated, merely shook his head.

The stranger laughed, fondly as he gently lowered Hank back down to a seated position.

'You're so young,' he muttered into his veil.

'Huh..?'

The strange man shot him an embarrassed glance. 'Nothing. Forget I spoke.' He took a gourd from his belt and opened the stopper.

'Here,' he said, bringing the gourd to Hank's lips. 'I'm afraid I can't get you all to my caravan in this condition. One of you, perhaps...'

Hank batted the gourd away from his lips. 'No. There are others who need help more than me.'

'I know that.' The eyes smiled behind the mask again. 'That's why I need you to regain your strength and help me get the others back safely.'

'Oh.' Hank took a sip of the liquid as the stranger continued speaking.

'Don't worry, Hank,' he murmured quietly, 'I won't leave anyone behind.'

Hank's face twisted up in disgust at the drink. 'It's salty!'

The stranger caught the gourd and brought it back to Hank's protesting mouth.

'You don't just lose water when you dehydrate, you know. This solution's got minerals and nutrients that you'll be lacking.' He made him take another gulp. 'In other words, stop complaining and drink up. It's good for you.'

The stranger, satisfied that Hank had drank enough for now, stood and picked his way over to the others, flinging a large kerchief from tucked under his belt to the Ranger.

'Cover your head,' he ordered, 'you're probably getting sunstroke.'

Hank tied the kerchief as a bandana over his head, watching as the stranger knelt down next to the faintly groaning Barbarian with the gourd of foul, salty water. Hank was sure that, as the man helped Bobby to his elbows to drink, he said the boy's name. He frowned, remembering something the man had said earlier.

'You know our names.'

The turbaned stranger glanced across at him as he forced the younger boy to drink.

'Yes.'

'How?' Hank paused. 'We... don't know you, do we?'

'Do you?'

Hank stared at the man. 'I don't think so.'

'Well, you're the best judge as to whether you know me or not, aren't you.'

Hank nodded. 'So, how do you know who we are?'

'Oh,' the man's eyes smiled again, and seemed to glaze over with a faraway look. 'There are stories of your adventures. A boy was brought to my palace. He told long tales of the great things he did with a group of five children, and a unicorn.'

'Really?' spluttered Bobby through the liquid.

'Yes. Really.' The stranger got up again, and walked over to the fallen girls.

'Was he dark haired,' asked Hank, at once excited at the Eric Trail becoming hot again and concerned at the past tense that the man was using to describe him, 'about my height, carrying a shield?'

The stranger didn't answer him. He was kneeling by Diana, trying to shake her into consciousness.

'Kinda snotty and negative?' added Hank, hopefully.

'Self obsessed?' chipped in Bobby, 'Never knows when to shut up?'

The man turned to them, thoughtfully, the unconscious Acrobat still in his arms. 'Sounds like him.'

'Well, that was Eric!' Hank tried to stand, excitedly, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down to his knees.

'That's who we're looking for,' Bobby continued.

Sheila moaned slightly in the stranger's shadow. He shifted his attention from Diana to her, helping her up and bringing the gourd to her slack, dry lips.

'Do you know where we can find him?' asked Hank.

The stranger didn't turn from Sheila.

'He's gone.'

There was that lump of despair in Hank's gut again.

_I knew it! I knew it!_

'He... he left?' Bobby asked.

'No.' The man turned to them again, just as Sheila opened her eyes.

'Eric...' Sheila whispered, 'Eric's... dead?'

The stranger took another kerchief from his belt and tied it as a headscarf over Sheila's copper hair, not meeting her eyes.

'I didn't say that. But that boy you described is gone. You shan't see him again.'

Sheila's eyes had begun to tear up again. 'What do you m..?'

But the man cut her off, turning back to the empty desert and letting out a loud, foreign cry.

'_Akhalakhalakhala-Hai!_' He stood, clapping his hands and crying out again, then paused, scanning the horizon.

'They're coming back,' he informed them, mysteriously. 'Stupid birds.'

He stooped and patted Presto's cheek. The bespectacled boy didn't respond.

'Out for the count,' he muttered, 'endurance never really was his thing...'

Before Hank could say anything, he became aware of large creatures approaching them at great speed. The stranger strode out to meet them - three huge, brown land birds, like giant Rheas, saddled and reigned. As wild as they seemed, they stopped tamely in front of the man, who patted the largest one on the beak, and muttered to it gently in a strange, unrecognisable language.

The man turned to the group again.

'It's a pity I can't get Diana to wake up,' he told them, going back to the Acrobat in question, 'I suppose she's been overdoing it again.' Barely pausing in his speech, he scooped the girl up into his arms and began to carry her over to the largest Rhea. 'Sheila, you and Bobby take Uni on the one with the black saddle, she's the tamest. Hank, if you can take Presto on the other one, that would be great. Don't worry, they're easy to ride.' He swung the unconscious girl onto the back of the largest Rhea, resting her between its saddle and its long neck. The man cocked his head at her. 'Hmm. That felt strangely satisfying...'

Sheila frowned, stepping in to Hank a little.

'Um... Do we _know_ you?'

The turbaned man laughed, fondly, again. 'You know, I just love the way you guys keep asking me that.'

He turned back to Sheila and, finally, met her eyes.

She stared. He had disguised them with a lining of black Kohl, as he had the rest of him with strange clothes, a mask and a thick Arabic accent, but she knew those eyes, dark and fiery and full of mischief. There was no mistaking them. No wonder he hadn't looked straight at her before. Her heart leaped.

'Eric!'

Eric laughed as she bounded towards him, and caught her in a tight hug, swinging her around and marvelling at how small and light she was.

'There was never any fooling you, was there, Sheila?'

'Eric.' Hank wanted to cry with relief about as much as he wanted to punch that dumb kid for stringing them out for so long. 'But you... you said...'

'That's not Eric,' interrupted Bobby. 'He's too big. And his voice is all wrong.'

'I have picked up a bit of an accent, I'll admit.' Eric set Sheila down, his Middle-Eastern accent not wavering. 'And you can put my size down to a wonderful trick of Mother Nature's known as "Growing Up".' His eyes shone at Bobby from behind his mask. 'Maybe someday you'll experience it for yourself, Shortstuff.'

Bobby groaned, rolling his eyes. 'That's Eric, all right.'

Hank eyed Eric with concern. He _was_ much bigger. He'd grown another good half a foot and, while staying fairly slim, had put on a fair bit of muscle. He had a dark tan, and what looked like a large, reddish triangular tattoo on his left hand. And he'd lost his American accent. It seemed that his fears regarding the timescales had been right. Eric had been in the Realm without them for some while.

'Eric...' he muttered, apologetically, 'there's something you should know about Earth and the Realm...'

'Time moves quicker here,' interjected Eric, calmly. 'Yes, I worked that one out when I met Jimmy Whitticker.' He paused. 'Out of curiosity, how long has it been on Earth?'

'Not twenty four hours,' replied Hank.

Eric nodded, stoically.

'And you?' Hank was dreading the answer. He knew it was going to be a long time. 'Six months? Twelve months? More?'

Eric burst into peals of his old hysterical, mocking laughter, although the unkind edge his laugh used to have had been lost along the line somewhere. Still, it made Hank feel uncomfortable.

'Yes, Hank,' he replied, eventually, wiping a Kohl-blackenned tear of amusement from his eye, 'it's been longer.'

Eric paused, then removed his turban.

Hank gasped, his head becoming light again, and Sheila stumbled faintly back into him.

Eric smiled sadly at them, now unveiled.

'It's been fifteen years.'

-x-

Diana stirred into consciousness. She could feel soft, padded silk beneath her. She was warm, but shaded. She moved her hand and felt the silken cushions she was lying on. There was a hand behind her head, pulling her up and bringing a cup of a lukewarm, sweet liquid to her lips.

'Peppermint tea,' murmured a man with a soft, Arabic accent, 'it'll be good for your headache, and a lot nicer than the concoction I was able to offer the others earlier, believe me.'

She opened her eyes, groggily. The tent was small and dark. She could make out Presto, lying unconsciously at the other side of the tent. Apart from him, the only other person there was the man cradling her head and feeding her the tea. She squinted at him. He was dark - Caucasian, but heavily tanned, and around thirty. Longish locks of glossy black hair grew down to his shoulders, strands of it falling over his darkly lined eyes. He had a short beard - a length somewhere between not bothering to shave for a few days and a full facial hairstyle. Her eye was drawn to a tattoo on the back of the hand holding the cup. A triangular pattern of complicated swirls in a Henna brown cascaded from the point between his middle and ring finger down to his wrist. It was pretty. He had good hands. She could feel that the insides of his thumbs and forefingers were slightly calloused, but besides that they were soft, slim and long fingered. Artist's hands, her mother used to call them.

She sat up a little.

'Where are the others?'

He hushed her, gently pushing her back onto her elbows.

'Getting some much needed rest,' he replied, 'as should you. It's a long ride back to the palace tomorrow.'

'But we...' she tried to get up again, but he stopped her. 'We need to find our friend.'

Eric pushed her head back onto the cushion, his face falling into the light as he did.

'He found you, Diana.'

'Eric.'

Eric set the cup down and took her hand. 'Hi.'

For a moment she couldn't speak. Dumbfounded, she gasped as tears began to roll freely down her cheeks, dampening her ears.

'Eric...' she managed to croak, eventually, '...you got _old_!'

Eric tutted, releasing her hand. 'Thirty is not "old", thankyou very much...'

'But...' she stammered, 'but what happened to your face... your voice?'

'You know me and my fads,' he smiled at her, 'I'm always going in for the latest beards, the latest eye makeup, the latest accents. Anything to stay fashionable.'

'You...' she finally found herself able to meet his smile. 'You're looking good.'

'Thanks.' He began pouring more tea from the nearby pot. 'Although since the last time you saw me I was an amphibian, an improvement in looks wouldn't be difficult.'

He passed her the filled cup again, which she accepted.

She drank the sweet concoction, watching Eric remoisten the towel on Presto's forehead with cold water and swab his mouth with tea.

'I found your journal,' she told him when he had finished.

'Really?' Eric didn't seem too bothered.

She retrieved the small book from under her belt and held it out towards him.

'In your bedroom. It was open.' She looked away, embarrassed. 'I saw my name, so I... read some of it. I'm sorry.'

Eric made no attempt to take the journal from her. 'It's OK, Diana. I'd probably read a diary that had things about me in it, too.' He paused. 'I take it you read a lot of the parts about yourself, then.'

Diana nodded.

'Don't tell me it came as a surprise to you,' he added.

Diana nodded again, apologetically.

'Really.' Eric cocked an eyebrow. 'Now that _is_ surprising. I thought it was obvious. I was hardly Captain Subtlety in my youth.'

'I never knew.' She hesitated. 'Did anybody else?'

Eric smiled calmly down at the comatose Magician, and swabbed his mouth again.

'Presto guessed. I only really needed the one confidante. Anybody else would have probably laughed in my face.'

Diana shook her head. 'So now what?'

Eric shuffled over to sit next to her. 'Well, now you get some rest, and in the morning we'll have some breakfast, pack up camp and go back to the palace until we can work out some kind of long term plan.'

'No.' She reached out and took Eric's hand. 'What now with us?'

Eric sighed, putting an arm around her shoulders. 'Oh, Diana...'

''Cause when I said you were looking good, I meant it,' continued Diana, nervously, 'I mean, I _really_ meant it. And since I read about how you feel about me, I've kinda been thinking about it, especially since I thought I'd lost you, and...'

'Oh, Diana,' reiterated Eric, pressing his head against hers. 'Believe me, Honey, there's a fifteen year old boy deep inside of me that's so happy at what you're saying, he's doing cartwheels. With triple backflips and somersaults.' He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. 'But that's only half of what I am nowadays.'

'I'm not just some little kid,' cried Diana, 'and you said yourself, thirty isn't that old...'

'It isn't just the age...'

Diana slumped, letting the journal fall to the floor. 'You've gone off me.'

Eric laughed slightly. 'Have you seen yourself recently, Diana? I will never "go off you". I'm not insane.'

He took her hand in both of his, and met her eyes, seriously.

'But I _am_ married.'


	4. Chapter 4

Four

It only took them about an hour after breakfast the next day to pack up the camp onto two large, elephant-like creatures, which they finally mounted, three-by-three, and rode Eastward, the unburdened Rheas following in a ragged train behind them. Presto had come round early the previous evening and, despite still nursing a bad headache, was having great fun teasing Eric about being old and married, not to mention his new applications of eyeliner and facial hair. Eric, turbaned and veiled against the sand once more, took it all with good humour, laughing along, and occasionally mocking the Magician's still underdeveloped appearance. Hank found himself on the same mount as them, to his surprise. Diana had insisted that she'd be best at driving the second beast, and spent the voyage doing so quietly, rarely joining in with Sheila and Bobby's conversations. The giant beasts made quick work of the desert, and well before sunsdown their destination became visible on the hazy horizon - a huge, many-domed white palace shining brightly amid a great city of multicoloured little houses and market squares, the city itself surrounded by a vast green oasis of carefully irrigated farmland, with twinkling canals and aqueducts running off in straight lines to unseen destinations to the East and South of the city.

Eric turned to them, the grin obscured by his mask still visible in his dark eyes.

'Home.'

A desert dusk was falling by the time they entered the outer city walls. The torches lining the streets were being lit. The streets themselves were still thronging with people going about their evening revelries. Brightly dressed men, women and children walked and ran and shopped and ate and drank in the open plazas. For a while a small troupe of musicians followed their train through the city. They continued to play after Eric tossed a little money at them, only breaking away from the caravan when they spotted a large cafe at which they could busk. Still the large creatures lumbered through the wide streets towards the centre of the city.

'Um,' Hank shuffled himself over so that he was sitting next to the man at the reigns. 'Where is it that you actually live, Eric?'

Eric stopped the beast right in front of a large gate to the palace's grounds, removing his mask, and turned to the Ranger with a small snort of laughter.

'As if you had to ask.'

'My Prince!' The guard at the gate crossed his arms, shaking his head in wonder at the strangers that Eric had brought back. 'It appears that you were right after all.'

'Didn't I tell you, Khalad,' Eric called down to the guard, 'I am always right.'

Khalad the guard smiled, opening the gate for them to pass.

'You remind me every day, my Prince.'

Eric geed his beast to walk on through the open gates, still calling down to the guard.

'Only because you seem to forget so often. _Ahm Kadimen li-laman batt_, Khalad.'

Khalad waved them through. 'And yours!'

'I think they just have!' cried Eric behind him as the rest of the caravan passed through the gate.

Khalad bowed slightly, regarding the others with a friendly smile, before closing the gates again.

Eric briefly met Hank's astonished gaze.

'That was Khalad,' he told Hank, conversationally. 'Sweet guy. Facial Alopecia. His eyebrows are tattooed on.'

'What was all that "Prince" business, Eric?' asked Presto from the seat behind them.

'Oh yes.' Eric shot them an impish grin. 'I'm a Prince. I'm surprised I didn't mention it earlier.'

'How... How?' was all that Hank was able to manage.

'The usual way.' Eric smiled smugly to himself again. 'Married a Princess.'

'No way.' Presto blinked, contemplating this. 'Hey, what was that foreign stuff you said?'

'_Ahm Kadimen li-laman batt_? It translates roughly as "may the Gods smile upon your family".'

'Oh.'

To Eric's slight irritation, the other boys didn't ask him any other questions as they rode through to the stables.

_Ah well,_ he thought, _perhaps my next surprise will impress them a little more_.

-x-

In a large, well guarded castle, half the Realm away, empty of life and love, filled only with weapons and armour and dusty trophies of past glories, a dark figure rose from his throne, suddenly.

'Oh!'

Clenching his fists, he oppressed his own surprised outburst. He concentrated. How could it be? Those artefacts were lost to another world! But it was true. They were returned. They were together once more. It was time.

He flexed his wings, stretching them as a cat would its claws.

'And this time,' he told nobody inparticular, 'I _shall_ succeed.'

-x-

Eric opened the door at the back of the palaces with a cheerful smile.

'Private quarters,' he told them, sniffing the air. 'Smell that.'

They smelled the warm air coming from the other side of the door. It was delicious and homely, the scent of some kind of spicy, meaty stew.

'Wow,' grinned Bobby, 'either you've got the best chef ever or Mrs Eric is a great cook!'

Eric shook his head. 'Our kitchen staff's the best in the Realm, and my wife's cooking is heavenly, but _that_ unmistakable smell can mean only one thing - the King is in the Kitchen.'

'The King is cooking?' asked Sheila.

'Yes.' Eric ushered them through. 'He's good at lots of stuff.'

They found themselves in a large, warm kitchen, full of steam and tasty aromas. There was no table, but a large area of the floor was taken up with a cloth laid with porcelain and silverware, with various cushions surrounding it. The other half of the kitchen was largely taken up by a vast, wood fuelled cooking range. The tall, silver haired man working at it turned from his stew pot and beamed at the adventurers.

'Well!' he exclaimed warmly in an accent much like Eric's, 'it appears that my wilful Son-in-Law was right after all!'

Eric patted the man fondly on the shoulder, tasting the stew with his finger as he did.

'As a Wise Old Man once told me, sometimes the desert just sings to you.'

The older man nodded in agreement. 'Whenever it has a loved one caught in its dry mouth. More saffron?'

Eric shook his head, sucking the tip of his finger. 'It's perfect.'

The others were still standing nervously in the doorway.

'_That's_ the King?' asked Presto.

'Where are my manners?' tutted Eric to himself. 'Guys, this is my Father-in-Law Rhamoud, King of the largest free Protectorate in the Realm.'

'Hello,' muttered Hank.

Eric turned to the older man. 'Rhamoud, these are the people I told you about.'

Rhamoud smiled widely at the ragged group and approached them, arms spread. 'Then you need no introduction!'

'Really?' stuttered Presto.

'My dear young ones,' cried the King, slinging his large arms around both Hank and Sheila, and pulling them into a bear-hug, 'after all the tales my Son has told me of you, you are practically family!'

'Are you sure he's a King, Eric?' gasped Sheila from within Rhamoud's grasp, 'he doesn't act like one.'

'Or look like one,' added Bobby.

Diana squinted at Rhamoud, cocking her head. 'He looks like Sean Connery.'

Rhamoud laughed loudly, even though he didn't know who he was being likened to. Eric slapped his forehead in sudden realisation.

'_That_'s who he reminds me of. Thankyou, Diana. That's been bugging me for years!'

The others began to laugh. Diana joined in for the first time that day, flashing Eric a smile.

Then she saw Her. Leaning against the doorframe in the half-light, watching the scene. Diana fell silent, as did the others as they followed her gaze.

The woman in the doorway was extraordinarily beautiful. She seemed to be all smile, all soft, loving, warm, wide lips. Diana drew her eyes from that terrible, heavenly smile, and wished that she hadn't. It wasn't the long, chocolate hair that hung silkily over her shoulders that made her heart sink, nor the shining eyes, nor the golden skin. Not even the complicated, swirling, triangular tattoo, identical to Eric's, on the back of her right hand. It was what the hand was cradling. The Bump. The small but unmistakable Baby Bump that gently curved her belly.

Eric was the last of the group to notice his wife in the doorway, but he broke into a grin the moment he did. The woman crossed the kitchen towards him.

'You found them,' she exclaimed. 'Our family is complete at last!'

'Hmm.' Eric wound his arms around the woman, pulling her back against his chest and stroking her slightly swollen belly, kissing the nape of her neck as he did. 'I wouldn't say that _quite_ yet.'

'I take it that's Mrs Eric,' said Bobby, pulling a slight face at the mushy display.

The woman laughed. 'My friends call me Ayeisha.'

'Oh...' Sheila was beginning to well up. 'I can't believe it. You're so In Love.'

'Sickening, isn't it?' Eric grinned into his wife's hair as everybody bar Sheila nodded in agreement with him. 'Sometimes I just want to punch myself.'

'You're having a baby,' Diana added, flatly.

'You noticed,' replied Eric. 'Our fourth.'

'_Fourth?_' the other adventurers exclaimed in unison.

'Things have been really settled round here for years,' replied Eric. 'There's little else to do with one's time but make babies, beside a little light adventuring and supressing the odd Barbarian horde - no offence, Bob.'

All that Bobby was able to say in response was 'Four..?'

Ayeisha patted her bump. 'I'm afraid this one doesn't say much yet, but the others are very amusing. You'll meet them at dinner.'

She smiled that wide, wonderful smile, pointing it straight at Diana. She found herself automatically smiling back, despite herself.

'Speaking of dinner,' added Rhamoud, 'I must see to the bread. Please. Make yourselves at home.' The King made ushering arm gestures toward the cushions on the floor. 'For as long as it suits you, you are to be part of the household of King Rhamoud. You are the brothers and sisters in arms of my only Son. You are our family.'

-x-

Far away, somebody to whom the notion of Family had long since grown bitter and meaningless stepped out in front of an a crowd of brutish, snout faced creatures, which were dressed, nevertheless, in officers' garb.

'Your troops will march tonight,' he ordered them. 'I shall finally have my vengeance upon those insolent children as well as the disobedient curs of Kaddish.'

-x-

Diana sat aside from the others and quietly sulked. Apart from Presto, who had wandered off to get a breath of air, everybody was sitting around on the cushions in the kitchen and listening to Rhamoud's cheerful description of Eric's rescue as he tended to the meal.

'It had been over a year since my darling daughter had been taken from me,' boomed the King as he retrieved a hot loaf of bread from the stove, 'and I had spent every day since then wandering the great desert alone, searching for my only child. Then one morning I awoke to hear the desert singing to me.'

Setting the bread down to cool, he poured himself a large goblet of wine.

'"Rhamoud", it sang, "I have found your child. You are a Father again." My heart soaring, I followed the voice.' Rhamoud chuckled into his goblet. 'But what I found was not my beautiful girl, but this boy!' He indicated to Eric joyfully, who shook his head, feigning embarrassment. He had obviously heard this story told this way several times before.

'Stick thin,' continued the King, 'badly burned, half naked and half dead, alone in the desert. Still, I knew at first sight that it was fate. I knew that this wretched child was going to bring love and life back into my home. But he would hear none of it!'

'Just imagine,' interrupted Eric, 'you're a teenaged boy, you wake up in your underpants with a heavily armed middle aged man leaning over telling you he believes you'll bring the love back into his house. You'd run a mile!'

'But you didn't run, my boy,' chided Rhamoud, warmly, 'oh no, you were happy to eat my food and wear my clothes and live in the comfort of my caravan, but you would not hear of calling me Father. It took two weeks for you to call me Friend!'

'Sounds like our Eric!' grinned Hank.

'But, Oh...' continued Rhamoud, 'the day that we found where the Nightstalker was keeping my girl, the day he helped bring back my daughter and saw the young lady I would have him call Sister... _Then_ he was happy to consider me as family. Although it was not to be as my Ayeisha's brother...'

'He makes it sound like it was love at first sight,' Eric tutted.

'Wasn't it?' asked Sheila.

'We hated each other for months!' interjected Ayeisha. 'I could not comprehend my otherwise sensible Father's devotion to this horrible, hateful boy, who did nothing but sulk.'

Eric laughed, letting his wife fiddle mischievously with his hair.

Diana hid a scowl. _I thought he was horrible first!_

'But I found myself warming to him,' continued Ayeisha, 'I found that there was a beautiful soul trapped within an unhappy young man. And the more I grew to like him, the more likeable he grew.'

'You kissed a frog,' said Bobby, 'and turned him into a Prince.'

Diana began to get up. _I don't think I can stand much more of this Disney Crap._

Eric blinked at Bobby. 'I never thought of it like that before,' he murmured. 'Thankyou, Bobby... Hey are you OK?'

Diana, suddenly on her feet, stared at him. She had hoped to slip away unnoticed until the Greatest Love Story Ever had come to an end.

'Uh... just gonna join Presto. Get some air. It's hot in here.'

The old Eric would have noticed something wrong in the tone of her voice, and frowned at her, or said something sarcastic that hid the message that he was worried about her. But this one just nodded, satisfied at her excuse.'

'Fine. Tell him supper's nearly ready, would you?'

'Sure.' Without looking at the others, she strode out of the kitchen and towards the shaded balcony where the young Magician was leaning, gazing out at the darkening grounds.

'Hi, Presto.' Diana leaned her back against the palace's outer wall, gladly breathing in the cool evening air.

'Hey, Diana.' Presto didn't take his eyes from the courtyard below.

'So.' Diana watched the Magician's back. 'Do you think this is all too weird, too?'

'Totally.' Presto turned to her, briefly. 'A few days ago my best friend was just a kid. Then he was a Bogbeast kid. Then he was a missing kid. Now he _has_ kids.' He turned back to the courtyard. 'His wife seems nice, though.'

Diana frowned. 'Yeah.' She paused. 'I found his journal back on Earth, you know.'

'Oh?'

'Yeah. Why didn't you tell me that he liked me? When he was our age, I mean.'

'He made me promise, on pain of death. Besides, what good would it do? You didn't feel the same about him, did you?'

Diana sighed, joining him at the balcony's latticed railing. 'Say, what are you looking at down there, anyway?'

A temporary assault course had been set up in the courtyard, with archery targets peppered around it. A young page in riding gear and a helmet was riding a small Rhea over it at great speed, guiding the creature over the assault course's obstacles with a confident fluidity, clutching the reigns with one hand and using a crossbow to fire at the targets as he rode past them with the other.

Diana raised her eyebrows. 'Wow. He's good.'

'You should have seen him doing pull-ups earlier.' Presto remained transfixed by the young warrior. 'Diana, this guy isn't even a proper soldier. He can't be any older than I am.' He shook his head. 'These people are amazing.'

'You think we should stay with them?'

'Well, Eric's happy here, and you know how difficult _he_ is to please. And I bet Venger and Tiamat and all those other creeps wouldn't dare go after us with an army of guys like that on our side.'

Diana watched the page for moment more, then turned back into the palace.

'Supper's nearly ready,' she told him.

He waved her off, still watching the display. 'In a minute.'

He continued to watch the page as he made the Rhea run and spin and leap around the courtyard, never losing his aim as he went. Too late, Presto realised that the last jump had been set too high, and couldn't suppress a small cry when the Rhea caught its foot upon it, tripped and fell, sending the page crashing to the ground. The page managed to roll as he hit the tiled courtyard, softening his fall but causing his large steel helmet to come away from his head and roll, clattering, across the ground.

Presto cried out again in surprise as a long, sleek plait uncoiled itself from the page's head as he... _she_... rolled. The skinny girl followed the sound of his voice and scowled up at him, hiding her humiliation with rage.

'What are you looking at?' she demanded.

Presto started a little, jumping back from the balcony's edge. 'Uh... nothin'.'

The girl's face softened a little at his timid response. She arched an eyebrow at him, mockingly. 'You think _that_ was "nothing"? Perhaps you'd like to come down here and show me something a little more impressive...'

'Oh... uh...' Presto wiped a small build-up of sweat from his forehead, panicking. 'That's not what I meant. I meant...'

'You're one of those strangers from the desert, aren't you?' interrupted the girl.

'...yeah...'

She walked closer to the balcony, observing him. 'Your clothes are unusual.' She pulled a face. 'You're not a Wizard, are you?'

Presto pulled at his robes, self consciously. 'Magician, technically.'

The girl stood directly beneath the balcony, staring up at him. 'Hmm.'

Before Presto could blink, she had grabbed the rose covered trellis running from the courtyard floor up to the palace's roof, and begun to swiftly, expertly clamber up it. He considered offering her a hand as she reached the level of the balcony, but she didn't need it. She swung herself onto the balcony next to him with ease, regarding him still as she did so. She flicked a strand of hair from her eyes as she walked into the light streaming out from the kitchen. She was pretty - as Presto had guessed, around his age, maybe a little younger - with dark, Arabic looks, a wiry frame and a cool, confident expression.

'Magician, eh?' she said, leaning into him. 'Well, tell me. Can you do this...?'

She flourished an empty hand behind Presto's ear, then pulled her fist, clenched, in front of his face. She opened her fist to reveal one of the white roses that grew up the trellis she had just climbed.

Presto smiled, accepting the rose. He pretended to push the flower into his ear, slipping the bloom quickly into his sleeve so that he could wave an empty hand at her.

He smiled. 'Yep.'

The girl nodded, deadpan. 'You shouldn't be a Magician.'

Presto retrieved the flower, downcast. 'You think?'

'You should be a Jester.' The girl curled her lip, ever so slightly. 'I haven't laughed this much in years.'

She turned to go into the palace. Presto felt a sudden urge to cry 'Wait!'.

'Wait!'

The girl didn't stop, but slowed, looking at him over her shoulder.

'Wh... what's your name?'

'Guess! I've already given you a clue.' She span around on her toes, briefly grinning at him before turning a dark corner inside and vanishing. 'See you later, Presto.'

Presto blinked at the rose in his hand for a moment before the realisation dawned.

_I never told her my name!_

-x-

Diana wandered around the grounds alone until the suns were completely set. By the time she had come back to the kitchen, dinner was already being served. She faltered slightly before she sat. There were two more children - two dark young boys. The older one was petting Uni and chatting to Bobby, while the littlest one was being thoroughly coddled by Sheila. Diana eyed them as she settled down on a cushion next to Hank.

'Is that them?'

Hank was about to mutter a reply when he was cut off by Eric.

'Diana!' grinned Eric, his arms still curled around his wife, 'These are my sons. Charlie's seven and Little Ramhoud is four and two thirds.'

'Acrobat!' cried Little Rhamoud, pointing at her.

'We've heard so much about you,' added Charlie, 'and the adventures you had with Dad.'

'Charlie...' warned Eric, softly.

'We know more about you than anybody else from Earth,' Charlie continued.

'You smack baddies with your stick!' added Little Rhamoud, getting to his feet in excitement. 'You go "Bash! Pow!" And you're pretty!'

The tot was silenced by an all-encompassing Sheila Hug. The redhead grinned at her friend with an almost demented look in her eye.

'Isn't he _cute!_' gasped Sheila, with four whole exclamation marks in her voice.

Hank caught Diana's gaze.

'They've made her so broody,' he whispered desperately. 'She's turned into an Ovary in a Cape.'

Presto, helping himself to stew, looked across at Eric.

'So where's the third one?'

Eric smiled faintly. 'Getting attacked by Sheila.' He cocked an eyebrow at Presto's confused expression. 'It's our eldest child who's late. As usual.'

'Wha...' managed Presto before a familiar voice cut him off.

'I'm not _always_ late.'

Eric smiled up at the figure in the doorway. 'Rose! How nice of you to join us!'

_Rose..._ Presto felt his appetite suddenly drain away. _Oh no._

The dark adolescent girl sashayed slowly across the kitchen towards her father.

'I was training,' she replied, 'I needed to wash up and change.'

Presto stared as the girl gave Eric a small kiss on the lips. There was no mistaking her for a boy this time. Her face was scrubbed and glowing, her long, black hair hung sleekly down her back. She was no longer wearing the riding breeches and tunic of a common page. She had changed into a flowing, knee length gown with pantaloons underneath, all in a bright, slightly translucent blue.

'Rose is your daughter...?' he asked with dry lips.

Eric nodded, stroking a hand down the girl's long plait of hair.

'But...' interjected Hank, 'but she has to be at least...'

'I'm twelve,' Rose told them, calmly.

'The best things in my life always happen to me by accident,' added Eric with a smirk.

Presto gulped as Rose caught his nervous eye. She flashed him another small smile.

'So those people were out in the desert after all,' she said. 'Young, aren't they?'

'Yes,' replied her father, sadly, as she sat down between Presto and Bobby. 'I'd forgotten how young we all were. We were... well... your age.' He sighed, casting his gaze over the other adventurers. 'How did we survive? You're all just children.'

'There is no such thing as "Just a Child", my Prince. You know that.'

Everybody but Eric turned in the direction of the familiar old voice. Eric simply covered his eyes in mock despair.

'Well well. It looks like the old gang's all together again.'

The wizened old Dungeon Master stepped out of his shadowy corner, bowing slightly at Eric.

'Your Highness.'

Eric opened his eyes and aped DM's act of reverence sarcastically.

'Your Shortness. Long time no see.'

The Dungeon Master sat down between the two little boys and helped himself to a plate of food.

'You have had no need for my advice for several years, my Prince,' answered Dungeon Master, calmly batting Little Rhamoud's curious, sticky fingers away from his bald head.

'So to what do we owe this pleasure?' asked Eric, coldly.

The Dungeon Master sat back, eyeing them all, seriously.

'The six weapons of power are together again. Do not think that that would have gone unnoticed amongst your enemies.'

'Venger,' scowled Hank.

'The very same, Ranger,' replied DM.

Rhamoud got to his feet, angrily. 'Did he not learn his lesson the last time? We thought we would hear no more of him after his defeat all those years ago...'

'You beat Venger...?' asked Sheila, too quietly for anybody to hear her.

'He lost a quarter of his army in that battle, Rhamoud' said DM. 'It was not worth him risking a further defeat on that scale for just one weapon. But for all six... that is a different matter.'

Ayeisha clutched her husband's arm. 'He's planning another attack, isn't he?'

The Dungeon Master nodded. 'He is already marching. He has replenished the numbers that he lost many times over since you saw him last, I'm afraid.'

'So? Our army can beat his a hundred times over,' stated Rose, bluntly. 'Besides, we have all of the weapons of power on our side this time, when before, we only had Daddy's shield and Grandfather's sword.'

The Dungeon Master smiled. 'What a courageous child you have, my Prince.'

Eric nodded, poker faced. 'She's her mother's daughter.'

Hank pushed his hands through his hair, sighing.

'How long do we have?'

'Two days,' replied the Dungeon Master, looking at Rhamoud.

'Plenty of time to fortify the city,' muttered the King. 'Thankyou for your warning, Dungeon Master.'

The Dungeon Master leaned across to pat Uni on the head, gently. 'You will prevail,' he told the room, 'if your heart is in the right place.' He glanced over at a worried looking Eric. 'You used to take risks like this all the time. And you _did_ survive.'

He waved a finger at the group in general, and then tucked in. A few forkfuls into his meal, he stopped and looked up. Everybody was still staring at him.

'Yes?'

'Aren't you gonna... y'know...' Bobby scratched his head, 'distract us and then disappear?'

DM smiled into his stew. 'No, on this occasion, if I may, I should quite like to stay a while.'

-x-

Diana leaned on the same balcony that she had joined Presto on earlier that evening and watched. After a lot of persuading, Rose had finally talked Presto into joining her in the courtyard for a little archery practice. Hank had joined in with them for a while before wandering off, leaving them alone besides their one onlooker. Diana smiled as Presto's crossbow bolt completely failed to hit the target yet another time, and Rose tutted and scolded and made him try again, forcing the weapon into his nervous hands and supporting his arms at the elbows.

'I found it.'

She jumped and span around. Eric was leaning on the doorframe in the same languid way that his wife had earlier, the same swirling tattoo staining his left hand, and a familiar golden shield in the other. He toyed with it gently, spinning it around on its bottom point. It seemed much smaller and lighter in his hands now.

'Haven't used it for a few years,' he continued, 'I thought it'd be mad at me for putting it out of action, but look...' He picked up the weapon in both hands and held it towards Diana. It glowed, humming merrily. 'It's a happy little griffin!'

He noted the small smile growing on Diana's face and waved the shield's ornamental crest closer to her.

'It says it's missed you.'

Diana laughed slightly as the man leaned into the shield and pretended to listen to it.

'And it says that it's time for you to go to bed.'

Diana's face fell at the reminder of the age gap between them. 'Not sleepy.'

'The boys have gone to bed. So have Bobby and Sheila.'

She folded her arms petulantly. 'Rose and Presto get to stay up.'

Eric stepped forward and leaned over the balcony. 'Oh Gods, what are they doing?'

'BEDTIME!' he yelled to them, so suddenly that Presto dropped his crossbow, setting the arrow off to shoot noisily across the tiles.

'In a minute, Daddy!' Rose cried up to him.

Eric sighed, stepping back to Diana. 'Kids.'

They paused, looking into one another's' eyes.

'Diana, are you all right?' he asked her, eventually. 'You've seemed really down all day.'

Diana broke out of his gaze, and looked down at her feet. 'Yeah. I just can't believe my rotten luck, that's all.'

'That you had to come back to a world you'd only just escaped to save a person who really didn't need any saving?'

'No, stupid.' Diana hugged herself. The freezing desert night was beginning to bite at her naked limbs. 'Ayeisha... she hated you when she met you... so did I. And then she started to really like the real you... well, so did I. Only you didn't tell me when you liked me, but you told her. And now... you grew up really hot, and all...' She pouted slightly at her toes. 'Where's _my_ Hot Husband?'

Eric leaned back against the wall. 'Diana, you're still only fifteen. Trust me, a girl like you is going to spend most of her adult life having the most eligible bachelors of this world _and_ the other falling over each other to get in your good books.'

'But I...'

'Don't let's go to that place, Deeds.' Diana was suddenly aware of how much Eric was keeping his distance, how deliberately he had done so since she'd shown her disappointment at his being married. 'Please? You have to let it go. Put it down to bad luck and bad timing like I did all those years ago. Life goes on, and you have to move with it.'

Diana just sighed, turning from him and leaning over the balcony railings again. To her surprise, he walked over and joined her, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.

'I don't want to sound patronising,' he said, 'but... I've been a teenager, and I've come through it. And now I'm starting to raise one. I know what it's like. Everything's so magnified. Every little crush is your One True Love. And when it all goes wrong, it feels like the end of the world. But it really isn't. You hurt and you sulk and you want to curl up in a ball and disappear, and then, one day you're as good as new again.'

'You know how you didn't want to sound patronising...?'

'Sorry.' Eric sighed. 'Rose reacted the same way when I tried to give _her_ this Little Talk. A month ago she had the biggest crush on her riding teacher. Then she found out _he_ was married, and her heart broke.'

They watched the pair in the courtyard as Rose began going over the Basic Principals of Crossbow Maintenance for the fifth time.

'She doesn't seem too heartbroken.'

'That's exactly my point,' said Eric, watching his daughter. 'a matter of weeks ago there was no man for her but Shamouk, and now she's... now she's...'

'Now she's flirting with Presto.' Diana broke into a large, real grin as she saw the confusion on Eric's face turn into a quiet Paternal rage.

'She's... she's... Oh Gods. Not him.'

'And I think he's flirting back,' she teased.

'Presto?' Eric asked the skies, 'My little girl and my best friend? Why?'

'He did nothing but worry about you when you were missing,you know,' she told him.

'That's no reason for him to reward himself with my firstborn!'

'Ha ha.' She caught his expression, glad to see a little ghost of the petulant old Cavalier flash across his eyes. 'You're gonna be Presto's Daddy.'

Eric scowled an Old School Ericky scowl. 'I think I might have to kill him.'

She laughed.

'I mean it! It's not funny!'

'Eric!'

The pair on the balcony turned to see the young man in the doorway. Hank was flushed and panting, and not merely from the effort of running to find them. He pointed off in the direction he had come from, wildly.

'Did you know there's a portal in your Bathroom?' he gasped.

Hank and Diana stared at Eric as he nodded, calmly. 'Yes. Use another one.'

'What?'

Eric shrugged. 'It comes and goes. I put up a sign saying "Beware Of The Portal", but I guess if you can't read Kaddish...'

'You have a Portal, waiting for you?' asked Diana, 'to Earth?'

'To my bedroom.'

'Why didn't you ever use it?'

Eric smiled, sadly. 'Yet another case of bad timing. The first time I saw it was four hours after I'd discovered I'd got Ayeisha pregnant with Rose. It was impossible to go back. Besides, I didn't want to. In the years since then, returning to my old life has become even less possible, and less appealing.' He ran his hand softly over the carved patterns of the balcony's wall. 'This is my home now.'

There was a long pause.

'But we can go back,' said Hank, eventually.

'Whenever you like,' replied Eric, 'although, time scales being what they are, I don't imagine I'll be around for more than a few Earth days. It would make visiting difficult.'

Eric sighed, then looked up at them, pleadingly. 'Stay?'

'Why?' asked Diana, 'you don't need us here.'

Eric looked from one youth to the other. 'I do. I've missed you all so much. More than I have anyone else from back there. When Rhamoud called you Family he wasn't exaggerating.'

'Really?' Hank smiled a little, mockingly. 'Even Bobby?'

'Even Uni,' Eric grinned. 'Stay... just for a few weeks. See how you like it. I'll bet you've got more used to this world than you'd like to admit. I'll bet it was tough going from being a superhero to an ordinary, underestimated kid again.'

Hank and Diana exchanged a brief glance.

'But don't you remember how much you used to hate this place?' Hank asked Eric.

'It's kind of different when you have a roof over your head,' replied Eric, 'and you don't have to scavenge for food and water. It's a good life - heroics by day, hot meals and soft beds by night. Cost of living's reasonable, it's a great place to bring up kids, fresh air, no TV to rot their brains...' He raised an eyebrow at Hank. 'You might want to settle down here yourself, bring up a whole brood of little Ginger babies. There's plenty of room...'

'Well, your kids turned out OK here,' muttered Hank, 'how are the schools...?' He blinked. 'Why Ginger?'

Eric shared a smug little smile with Diana. 'No reason.'

There was another long pause, broken suddenly by Hank.

'I'm sorry,' he gasped, 'I really have to go. Now.'

Eric bit his lip in disappointment. 'Really? Well, I suppose it's your decision. I'll wake the others.' He scratched at his earlobe, sadly. 'Perhaps you should leave your weapon behind, in case we can find somebody else who can use it.'

Hank frowned. 'My weapon?'

Eric held his hand out for Hank to shake. 'It's been a pleasure, Hank. And I'm glad you came back for me.'

Hank looked from Eric's hand to Diana's nonplussed face. The realisation dawned. He shook his head.

'I meant to the Bathroom. The Portal kinda put me off earlier.'

'Oh!' Eric withdrew his hand and used it to push his hair back over his head, relieved. 'Down the stairs, third door on the right. You'll find that one refreshingly Portal Free.'

'Thanks.' Hank turned, then faltered. 'I'm glad we came back, too.'

'Night, Hank.'

Diana shared another smile with Eric as Hank left.

'Ginger babies. Honestly...'

Eric shrugged. 'You know me, I just say what everybody's already thinking.'

'Is it really that great here, or do you just want our company?'

'Both,' replied Eric, turning his attention back to the couple in the courtyard, 'although I can see myself having a Stern Manly Chat with Presto if he carries on like that much longer.'

Diana laughed again, finally backing away from the balcony.

'I'll break the training session up for tonight. It's been a long day and it's late. We'll have to see what tomorrow brings.'

Eric nodded. 'Thanks, Diana.'

Diana stalled. She pulled the small book from her belt and held it out towards Eric.

'This is yours.'

Eric accepted the journal with a smile. 'Yes it is.'

She watched him flick through the pages briefly, chuckling quietly to himself at his own youthful memoirs.

'I suppose it just wasn't meant to be, was it?' she said at last.

Eric closed the journal. 'Not in this life.'

Diana shrugged as nonchalantly as she could as she left the balcony. 'Oh well. Better luck next time.'

Eric stayed on the balcony, and watched his daughter and his friend. They were definitely flirting. He tried to console himself that they were both far too young to do anything about any early adolescent stirrings, and that Presto couldn't have been further from the libidinous Ladykiller that every father feared would show an interest in his little girl. Still... he wasn't sure that he approved. But then he was used to quietly disapproving of the way his daughter was growing up. He was about to shout down that it was bedtime again when Diana joined them in the courtyard. He watched as his old friend tried to talk Rose into retiring and allowing the exhausted Magician to go to bed. He continued to watch silently as Diana was eventually persuaded into indulging the other girl in a sparring session. He glowered into the night as he saw the familiar flash of the weapon his daughter had chosen to use against the Acrobat's staff.

'She's using her Grandfather's sword,' he said, quietly. 'Again!'

'I did warn you,' replied the soft old voice at his side, 'considering what you are, and whose daughter it is that you married, it was inevitable that at least one of your children would be Gifted.'

Eric turned his head to see the Dungeon Master perching on the balcony's railing.

'I know why you're still here' he told the little old man. 'You want us all to start your little adventures again, don't you?'

'There is still so much evil out there,' sighed DM, 'and so much good that can be done by the wielders of the weapons of power.'

Eric frowned, watching his friends in the courtyard. 'Are you going to take their portal home away again?'

The Dungeon Master raised his eyebrows, a little hurt. '"Take away their portals"? You don't believe that it was _I_ who...'

'Are you?' interrupted Eric, sharply.

'No,' sighed the Dungeon Master. 'I believe they will stay of their own accord.' He gave Eric a little smile. 'It is not just your weapons that are irresistably drawn to one another.'

'And me?' asked Eric, running a finger down his shield. 'I left the Cavalier out in the desert...'

'You left some armour out in the desert,' replied DM, 'and the last time I looked, there was plenty of that in Kaddish. You kept the shield on your arm, and the Cavalier in your heart. I have seen you fight dangerous foes with Rhamoud, you Protector of Little Things. They will need you if you are to defeat the great evils of this world.'

'Then take me,' said Eric, turning to the courtyard where his daughter twirled and leapt and flourished the sword in her hands against Diana's staff, 'but leave Rose. I know you want her as a pupil, but please...' he met DM's eyes. 'I want to see my little girl grow up.'

The Dungeon Master didn't waver his gaze from Eric's. 'Then let her.'

Eric shut his eyes.

'You know that she was born to be a great adventurer,' continued the Dungeon Master, 'to stifle her is death. Allow her to follow her heart. Allow her to soar.'

'She'll want to go to battle when Venger and his army arrive,' sighed Eric, still not opening her eyes. 'A little girl on a battlefield... and if... _if_ we defeat him again, there'll only be more danger waiting for her if she joins us...'

He was surprised by the feel of a large, wrinkled, soft hand on his. It caused him to turn and look at the Dungeon Master, face to face with him. The little old man had never looked so sad, or so serious before. Eric recognised that look in his eyes, that dull, empty loneliness. The concept of what a solitary life a Dungeon Master's must be flashed through his brain briefly, and, for once, he felt more than a little sorry for him.

'A Father won't settle for riddles,' DM told him, softly. 'A Father simply needs to know that his child is well, and happy, and safe.' The Dungeon Master paused, and cleared his throat. 'So I will speak plainly to you, Eric. Venger will not breach the walls of Kaddish. You and your army of _Laman_ will succeed. Your daughter is already a great warrior, and she fights beneath the protection of her father's shield.'

'She'll be OK?'

'No, Eric.' The Dungeon Master turned around on the railing to watch Rose fight. 'Not merely "OK". She will be Magnificent.'

_-x- _

_What is 'The End'? It's just the beginning of another chapter, one that the writer will never get around to writing. I can't really write 'The End'._

_Another chapter of my life has begun. It's such a far cry from the life I left behind with this journal, it would make no sense to continue with this one. I've decided to start a new one, just as soon as the little problem of the fast approaching army of Orcs has been settled._

_The others have agreed to stay until after the battle at least. I guess they feel it's the least they can do. I think they might blame their return, weapons and all, on Hornhead's decision to attack, although it was probably only a matter of time before either him of Tiamat got sick of infighting with each other and turned on us. I'm glad they'll be here with me, anyway. It's hard to believe that the last time they disappeared through a portal I tried to tell myself I was glad that they'd gone.They've all seemed to have warmed to my family... maybe a little too much... Sheila seems to have adopted Little Rhamoud and the less said about Presto the better. And I'm sure I saw Bobby teaching Charlie to spit yesterday._

_Yes - Charlie. I named my oldest son for you after all. I don't imagine any of this will make much sense to you, Dad, but since I'm sure this will fall into your hands at some point, I thought you might like to know that I'm well and happy and safe. But I'm afraid I won't be coming back. You won't see me again, but then you rarely saw me when I lived with you, so it won't really change things. I still love you, and I'll miss you, Dad._

_So now there's not much left to do except find a good way to wrap this entry up and throw this journal back through the portal... Bobby said something funny last night that made me think. Somewhere in this whimsical world my cynical, material life got turned into a Fairy Tale. Yes, I know, talk about irony, but it's true. I was a frog... literally for a while, but that's not my point. My life was cold and ugly when I last wrote in this diary, and now it's full of beauty. And I'll tell you something else - you'll never meet a happier Prince Charming. Is it safe to end with 'And They All Lived Happily Ever After'? Besides the word of an old man about what's to come tomorrow, I don't know what the future will bring any more than the next man. How can everybody live Happily Ever After, truly? If I wanted to, I could write here that Venger saw the error of his ways at the battle that's still to come, and that my friends all decided to stay with me and found the kind of contentment that I did, and that we still all got to go out on fun adventures where nobody ever got hurt and we all came home for tea every night. But life never pans out exactly how you'd like it. I suppose people make their own happiness, and my friends and children, young as they are, are wise enough to live their lives the way they want to. So I think I will end this like a Fairy Tale after all. Ahm Kadimen li-lamen batt, Dad._

_And They All Lived Happily Ever After._

_-x-_

Note: Any Kaddish language I used in this story was made up on the spot. I don't know if it actually means anything in any other language. If it sounds like any real words, or phrase, it's completely unintentional!

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